


Drabblicity

by ijustliketowatch



Series: As Many Drabbles as Arrows in a Quiver [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Humor, Romance, and two chapters of deeply sad angst, occasional smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:32:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 43
Words: 38,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijustliketowatch/pseuds/ijustliketowatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or a season's worth of drabbles about everyone's favorite IT girl, Felicity Smoak, and all her favorite vigilantes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Grey Dress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know how this happened. I blame the Olicity fandom on Tumblr. This might just end up being a one-shot or maybe this is where I'll put all my Olicity drabbles for season 2. Anyway, enjoy me and Oliver shamelessly appreciating Felicity's backside.

Oh God, she's wearing the grey dress again. That infernal sheath of fabric that Oliver both hates and loves in equal measure.

He's always known that Felicity is a beautiful woman—even when her wardrobe mostly consisted of outfits that made her look like a librarian. Which also had a certain appeal. But it wasn't until she wore this dress shortly after he returned from the island a second time that he came to terms with one very real truth. Felicity Smoak has a _terrific_ ass.

And that's on a normal day. But in this dress? It's undeniable. The person who designed it was either a genius or a sadist. The tight fabric that hugs every curve and leaves so, so little to the imagination—except maybe the color of the panties beneath, which Oliver's imagination has spent an alarming amount of time on. The twin orange panels on her abdomen just above her hips that practically beg to have his hands on them, pulling her back so that glorious ass of hers would be pressed against him.

He remembers the first time she wore it with striking clarity. He had briefly registered how well the dress complemented her figure as he exited the elevator, but her yelling took up most of his attention. Though he didn't understand her anger considering he'd just doubled her salary by moving her upstairs.

After tricking him with a rather clever line about not getting him coffee, she stormed out of his office. He was going to follow up her little outburst with a request to make dinner reservations for Diggle, Carly and him when he noticed it, his seated position offering him a devastating view. The way the fabric clung to the flesh beneath, the sway of her hips accentuated by the stomping, the way the zipper on the back directed his eyes straight to her ass. His mind went completely blank until she walked past Diggle and he was suddenly reminded that he was going to say something.

He'd tried to banish the thought from his mind the rest of the day, chalking up the moment to his 5-month dry spell. But by the time she stormed away again in the foundry that night, he knew: Felicity had a great ass and he liked looking at it.

Oliver really doesn't have time for this today. He's got another sparring match with Isabel Rochev this morning about Queen Consolidated's finances and he needs to be prepared. So, once he returns Felicity's good morning wave and shamelessly watches her sit down, he turns to his computer to go over his notes. At least he intends to.

As he waits for his computer to sign in, he happens to glance up toward Felicity's direction again and is struck dumb by the sight of her leaning over her desk, butt sticking out a little as she signs a clipboard held out by a delivery guy. She smiles at him, hands the pen back and picks up the box he delivered.

"Don't get used to this," she says as she carries the box into the office as Diggle holds open the door for her. "Mail is also on the list of things I won't be fetching for you, but I didn't want this in my way. What is this anyway?" she asks after she sets the box down on his desk.

"Birthday present for Thea," he says and moves it to the drawers behind his chair. "She checks all the shipments we get at the club, so I didn't want her to see it." Felicity nods and turns to walk back to her desk, but Oliver stops her because he'd like a few more moments with the dress.

"Uh, Felicity?" he starts and then realizes he doesn't have anything to follow it up. "Um, where did you save the financial statements the accountants sent us?" She sighs and tilts her head, annoyed.

"In the file marked 'Financial Reports' in the shared drive, like I told you," she says, exasperated.

"Oh, right."

"Do you remember the password?" she asks condescendingly.

"No," he lies. Felicity rolls her eyes and sighs.

"Scoot," she says with a wave of her hand as she approaches his desk. He rolls his chair to the side and silently congratulates himself when she leans over his desk to locate the file and he gets the most amazing view of her ass he's probably ever gotten. He's so busy staring that when she turns to tell him the password again, she almost catches him.

"I won't forget this time," he insists, hoping she won't have time to think about why he was startled. "are you all set for the meeting?"

"Yup," she replies, "ready to take notes, as usual." She turns and walks out then, muttering something about not ordering bagels this time because nobody ever eats them anyway and Oliver thinks he's gotten away with ogling her until he notices Diggle giving him a stern look. Oliver shrugs helplessly and Diggle frowns and shakes his head at him, the threat clear. He really hopes his partner doesn't tell Felicity about it. He shudders to think about the yelling. But he doesn't feel terribly guilty. He's powerless against that dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks and leave a review, if you please. Or not. Your call.


	2. Song and Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to write something like this for awhile, but the commercial with Felicity singing to herself that aired during 2x05 made it impossible to ignore the plot bunny any longer. Pure fluff set a few months down the road from where the characters are now.

Oliver’s never caught Felicity singing before. Humming definitely. Dancing, nearly every day. Rare are the times he looks up from his desk and doesn't find her shimmying to whatever tune is currently flowing though her headphones, abruptly freezing whenever a client or another employee appears in front of her desk.

But this full-on belting is something new. He doubts he’d be hearing it now if she had any idea she wasn’t alone in the Verdant basement. The music blaring from the computers’ speakers must have masked the sounds of him opening the door and he’s glad for it; she’s pretty good. Apparently singing is another one of Ms. Smoak’s many talents.

He pauses at the top of the stairs and just enjoys the scene, smiling to himself as Felicity unabashedly sings as she types. The typing stops abruptly, however, when a new song starts and Felicity gasps in excitement. She spins her chair as the opening notes play and then sings even louder when a man begins crooning.

_Cupid, draw back your bow and let your arrow go_

_Straight to my lover’s heart for me, for me_

_Cupid, please hear my cry and let your arrow fly_

_Straight to my lover’s heart for me_

The song sounds old, at least 50 years, and he’s just wondering how she knows it so well when the chorus starts again and Felicity doesn’t seem content to just dance in her seat anymore. Instead, she stands, goes to the case that holds his bow and picks it up, pulling back the string and letting it go in time with the whooshing sound effect in the song. It’s perhaps the most charming thing he’s ever seen.

She continues to dance around with the bow for the remainder of the song, completely oblivious that she has an audience until Oliver begins to applaud when the song ends. Felicity’s face blanches at the sound and she stares at him, wide-eyed in complete mortification as he walks down the stairs.

“You know, I think Cupid’s hardware is probably a little less dangerous than that,” Oliver says and points at the bow still raised in her hands. Felicity glances over at it—like she’s just remembering it’s there at all—and then quickly places it back in the case, her face now a shade of red not far from the color of the dress she’s wearing.

“Yeah, but you probably look better wearing  just a set of wings,” she mutters absently and then her face nearly turns purple when she realizes what she’s just said. “I didn't mean that, not that I don’t think you’re attractive,” she sputters and self-consciously runs her hands down the sides of her dress to smooth nonexistent creases.  “Wait, no. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to hit on you,” she says, gesturing a stopping motion with her hands and then pausing to take a breath. “Ok, subject change. Um, exactly how much of that song did you hear me sing?”

“All of it,” Oliver replies and Felicity cringes. “You’ve got a good voice,” he adds, hoping the compliment will lessen her embarrassment before she spontaneously combusts.

“Thanks,” she mutters and then walks back to her desk to turn down the volume, now strenuously avoiding looking at him.

Diggle appears then and Felicity immediately starts rambling about what she’s found on their next target, blatantly trying to keep Oliver from mentioning the incident to their partner. Oliver lets her, but he doesn’t forget. He spends the next two days before Valentine’s preparing, even bringing Diggle into his little scheme. He makes sure she’s delayed at work the day of so that he and Diggle get to Verdant well before her.

“Where’s Oliver?” she asks when she finally arrives.

“He’s in back changing,” Diggle replies. “We’ve got an emergency situation.”

“What is it?” she asks, her eyes narrowing as she starts to scan her computer screens.

“Looks like there’s a Valentine’s date that isn’t going well,” Diggle explains, totally serious.

“What?” Felicity begins, but stops when Oliver finally steps out from where he’s been hiding. Her mouth drops open when she first sees him, not because he’s shirtless this time, but because he’s wearing a giant set of wings and a pair of white shorts with little hearts on them instead of his Arrow gear.

“Felicity, I’ll need you to tap into the surveillance feeds at the restaurant so I can scope out a good location to fire on the couple,” Oliver says as he goes to pick up his bow. Felicity still doesn’t react, though. It’s not until he picks up the modified arrow with a tiny plush heart attached to the end instead of an arrowhead that she falls back into her chair and starts to laugh. She laughs even harder when Oliver fires the heart arrow at Diggle and it’s a good five minutes before she’s composed herself. Oliver approaches her desk then, smirking down at her as she wipes tears from her eyes.

“So do the wings suit me?” he asks and strikes a little pose to show them off that sets her laughing again.

“Definitely,” she assures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song, by the way, is Sam Cooke's "Cupid." Thanks for reading and please leave a review if you don't mind.


	3. Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by p0cketw0tch's post on Tumblr about Sara flirting with Felicity to tease Oliver. But, really, the only excuse for this is my dirty mind. If I had any gift for writing smut, this whole thing might have ended differently....

Oliver wonders if Felicity would be into it. He _knows_ Sara would be. Not just because he has very distinct memories of her sharing intense make out sessions with other girls during parties pre-island either. No, she's been turning on the charm with Felicity since the beginning.

The first thing Sara said to her was, "you're cute." Sure, Felicity had just gone on one of her awkward rambles and the statement is generally pretty accurate, but even if that moment were an aberration, everything about their interactions since has only solidified it in his mind. Sara is pursuing Felicity.

In fact, she's flirting with her right now. The only question is whether Felicity is aware of it. Oliver looks across the room from the work station where he's fashioning arrows to where the women are literally circling each other on the training mats and wonders how she could possibly miss it. Sara wasn't exactly subtle when she suggested this little sparring session and Felicity hadn't put up much of a fight, figuratively speaking. Literally speaking, she's putting up a rather good fight. They've only just started, but Felicity is doing surprisingly well. Though Oliver suspects Sara's taking it easy on her. He could have easily taken Felicity to the ground by now.

The arrowhead he's attaching to the wooden shaft suddenly slips in his hand and he's just deciding he's got to focus when he comes to understand the game Sara is playing here. Felicity, having grown cocky because of how well she's doing, makes a mistake and gets too close. Sara quickly takes advantage, twisting Felicity's body so her back is pressed to Sara's front. She leans in and whispers something in Felicity's ear and the latter smiles before elbowing Sara in the stomach and squirming out of her grasp. Felicity steps back to the edge of the mat, squaring her stance to ready herself for Sara's next move and smiles mischievously, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

Well, that settles it, the flirting must be mutual. Oliver's seen that look before, though this is the first time he's seen it directed at anyone but himself. It can be tough to tell what does and doesn't constitute flirting with Felicity. At least half the words out of her mouth are accidentally suggestive, so distinguishing the things she actually _means_ to say isn't always easy. But he has never seen her look at Diggle like that during their training sessions.

Damn Diggle. This wouldn't be happening if he weren't home sick with the flu. Oliver's got to find a way to focus on something other than the frankly delicious sounds Felicity and Sara are making as they spar. He looks down at the pile of arrows he's made and decides his best option is to go over to the grindstone and sharpen them. That will at least drown them out.

Unfortunately, doing so also puts him closer to the training mats. So, he's got a front row seat when Sara finally succeeds in knocking Felicity to the ground, landing on top of her in a way that has nothing to do with self defense. She leans down to playfully snarl in Felicity's face and Felicity responds with a laugh that Oliver thinks might be the most distracting sound of all. But that's nothing compared to the way he feels when Sara helps Felicity off the floor and then looks directly at him, smiling like the cat who ate the canary.

Mother of God. She's doing this on purpose. He had explained to Sara–repeatedly–that Felicity and he were nothing more than coworkers and good friends, but he should have known she was up to something by the sly tone in her voice every time she asked. And this whole performance doesn't change their relationship, of course. Felicity is just his friend and she and Sara can flirt as much as they want, but a man would have to be dead to ignore this. And Oliver feels very much alive right now.

He shakes his head a bit to clear his mind and then commits himself to sharpening arrows with renewed vigor. That is, until he sees Sara slam Felicity to the ground again out of the corner of his eye. The move seems unnecessarily rough and he's just about to protest on his friend's behalf (if only to wipe that smug look off Sara's face) when Felicity surprises them both. With a move he knows for a fact she didn't learn from Diggle, Felicity twists her body and strikes out with her arm so Sara is knocked backwards, falling flat on her back. Before she can move, Felicity pounces and ends up on her knees, straddling Sara's hips and holding down her hands with hers. She looks just as smug as Sara did a moment earlier, but Oliver finds it maddening for an entirely different reason.

Suddenly, he's reminded of what he's supposed to be doing by the ugly sound of the arrowhead slipping on the grindstone. Before he can react, the arrow slips in his loose grip and the bottom edge of the arrowhead catches on the stone, sending the arrow flying across the room where it clatters loudly against a weapon rack. When he looks back to where Felicity still sits atop Sara, he finds the former looking confused and the latter looking downright triumphant.

"You OK over there, Ollie?" Sara asks in mock concern.

"I think I've just been sitting too long," he says and stands, turning off the grindstone as he does. "Think I need a few minutes on the salmon ladder. Get the blood pumping," he adds, annoyed with himself and her. However, that changes a moment later when he catches Felicity's reaction to his decision, smiling and biting her bottom lip the same way she did earlier. Sara notices it too and Oliver can't help but feel smug at the look of jealousy that flits across her face. She turns to look at him then, her expression a mixture of anger and possessiveness that's also clearly a challenge. Oliver smirks back at her and then removes his shirt.

Two can play this game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and leave a comment, it might make me feel like less of a perv.
> 
> UPDATE: Because so many of you asked, I've decided to make a smuttier continuation of this chapter. It's called "Friendly Competition," for those who are interested.


	4. Be Careful What You Wish For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little something I wrote in response to a Tumblr prompt about tropes. This one is all in the title and all about how excited I am for Barry Allen's arrival.

Oliver likes Barry, of course. What's not to like? He's smart, he's a big fan of the Arrow, he's helping the team. Allen's a nice guy. Oliver just doesn't like him distracting Felicity.

Maybe distracting isn't the right word; flirting is probably a more accurate description of what they're doing. They're supposed to be working. He supposes they are, though sometimes he has a hard time following their conversations with all the tech talk they fire at each other at that aggravating, near-constant pace. But even if he's not a genius too, he is well aware what flirting looks like.

Those playful smiles, the familiar way she keeps touching his arm, the way he stares at her whenever she isn't looking–this is textbook flirtation. But they've got a dangerous killer running around the Glades that they need to catch and they don't have the time to waste.

"You two make any progress?" he yells out from the training mats toward where they're working at her desk. They both turn and look at him, startled, like they forgot he was there.

"Still looking," Barry replies and then says something Oliver can't hear to Felicity that makes her laugh. He frowns and tightens his grip on the eskrima sticks in his hands before smacking them into the dummy.

It's not that he isn't happy for Felicity. After her reaction to what had happened between him and Isabel, he's been hoping for something like this to happen. Oliver knew what she was really asking him when she wanted to know why he'd done it. And as much as he had wanted to give her the answer she wanted to hear, he couldn't. He cares about Felicity. He does. But the life he's living doesn't afford him the luxury of being with someone he cares about.

She's too good for him. Felicity deserves someone who can care about her fully, no distractions. Maybe Barry is that guy. And if he is that guy, then Oliver will be happy for them. He will. But he wishes he didn't have to watch them flirt. If only they would get back to work.


	5. Kitchen Nightmares 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from not-past-tense on Tumblr: Established Olicity - She attempts to make dinner for his birthday and accidentally burns it or something and is super upset. Comforting!Oliver to the rescue!

"This is what I get," Felicity says to herself as she throws open the window to her apartment's kitchen to let out the smoke.

She's usually such a good cook, but she should have known not to go anywhere near a computer when she's got other things to pay attention to. One minute she's telling herself she'll only be gone a moment to write a few lines of code and the next she's nearly shoving her computer to the ground as her fire alarm starts blaring.

With a sigh, she turns around, grabs a dishtowel and climbs onto the kitchen's center island so she can start clearing the smoke from around the alarm. She's almost succeeded when Oliver bursts through the door and she nearly topples to the floor.

"Felicity!" Oliver shouts and runs toward her. She manages to catch herself before she plummets to her death, but still blushes at how ridiculous she must look. "What happened?" Oliver demands when he reaches her, steadying her with his hands on the bare skin of her thighs under the fabric of her skirt–which actually makes her feel more off-balance.

"I'm so sorry, Oliver," she says as she starts waving the towel again. "I know you didn't want a big party, so I wanted to surprise you with a dinner for the two of us." The alarm stops beeping and she plops dejectedly down onto the countertop. "I wanted it to be perfect."

"Hey, it's OK," Oliver says softly. He pulls her toward him until her legs are dangling over the edge of the counter and he can stand between them.

"But I spent all this time getting everything ready," she says and throws her hands in the air in frustration. "I even hacked into the system at that bakery you liked and got the recipe to their chocolate cake," she says and finishes with a pout. Oliver chuckles and leans in to kiss her softly, his hands squeezing her waist as he does.

"I'm sure the rest of dinner will be great," he says in that soft voice that always makes Felicity melt. "It's just a cake."

"But now I made all that for nothing," she says and points at the bowl of fluffy chocolate frosting sitting next to her. Oliver quirks an eyebrow and then swipes a dollop with his index finger. Instead of bringing it to his mouth, he spreads it on her bottom lip and then leans down to kiss her, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth and licking the frosting from her skin. He pulls away after a moment and gives her a mischeivous smile.

"I'm sure we can think of some use for it," he says lowly.


	6. Kitchen Nightmares 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from not-past-tense on Tumblr: Established Olicity - Oliver comes home to find Felicity has made some ridiculous mop-broom-spatula-whatever just to try and reach the top shelf of their kitchen cabinet.

Sometimes Oliver wonders how Felicity gets herself into these messes. When they're out in the field, chasing down a bad guy, it makes sense. But how she manages to get into trouble in their own kitchen is beyond him.

He walks into their apartment to find her perched on the center island waving a broom around, trying to knock loose a knife that has somehow become embedded in the ceiling. She turns to him, freezing like she's a burglar who's been caught mid-heist.

"How did you manage that?" he asks incredulously.

"Funny story," she starts and blushes that deep red he finds so flattering on her. "I was getting ready to chop the peppers for dinner and I was carrying the knife and cutting board to the counter." Oliver sets down his things and walks over to her, being careful to avoid walking under the knife. "But then I saw a mouse run across the floor and I panicked. And you know how much I wave my hands when I'm freaking out sooo..." She doesn't finish the sentence, just points up at the knife.

Oliver chuckles and shakes his head. He steps up to her, grabs her by the thighs and lifts her up. She squeaks in surprise as he hoists her high enough so that the knife is within reach. She plucks it from the ceiling and he gingerly sets her down on the floor.

"Why don't you let me cook dinner tonight," he teases.


	7. Tandem Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Tumblr Lovr, adorablecanadiancupcake, who requested some Smoaking Canary.

Sara won't lie and say she's never imagined what it would be like to ride the motorcycle with Felicity.

Her hands wrapped around Sara's stomach, those bright nails digging into the leather of her suit; Felicity's chest pressed to her back, its quick rise and fall and the breath ghosting on her neck telling her just how fast she can go before Felicity gets frightened; her legs wrapped around Sara's hips, every turn of the bike pressing them more deliciously together.

Yet reality turns out to be nothing like her fantasies. Because Felicity is driving.

Instead, Sara's the one gripping on for dear life and breathing hard as she wonders just how hard Felicity will push the machine. She tried to ask Felicity where she learned how to operate the bike, but the sight of her–clad in a leather jacket and matching gloves–straddling the seat in her heels and her skirt hiked up dangerously high had stunned her into aching silence.

She'll get an explanation later. Right now it feels too good to simply hold on to Felicity, her warmth and the scent of her perfume in the crook of her neck more exhilarating than the speed.


	8. Employee Codes of Conduct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt request by an anon on Tumblr: Olicity smut. Maybe in the office at QC.
> 
> Smut does indeed follow.

This meeting is too damned long. Oliver checks his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes and doesn’t bother to stifle his sigh of frustration. It’s now been over 20 hours since he tasted Felicity and that is just unacceptable.

Felicity nudges his leg with hers and gives him a stern look. He acknowledges the admonishment by dropping his hand to her bare knee and scraping his nails against the skin of her thigh as he drags his hand up to where he most wants to place it. She slaps her hand loudly over his to stop him and then goes crimson when every eye in the room turns to them.

"Uh, that should be everything, Mr. Queen," the head of Applied Sciences says awkwardly.

"Great, Mr. Jeffries," Oliver says and stands, grateful for the particular height of the conference table. "I’ll look over these documents and have Ms. Smoak get back to you sometime tomorrow with my decisions."

The assembled QC employees stand to calmly collect their things while Felicity snatches up her tablet and storms to her desk. Oh boy, he’s in for it now. Oliver allows the rest of the employees to file out of the conference room before moving and stops at the door to speak to Diggle on his way out.

"You can go ahead," he whispers. "We’ll meet you at Verdant in an hour."

"Mm-hmm," Diggle hums and gives him a skeptical look. "I won’t be surprised if you turn up alone," he adds as he turns to leave.

Oliver paces his office until he hears the last of the murmuring voices of his employes fade to silence as the elevator doors slide closed before he walks out to Felicity’s desk. He finds her typing aggressively and pointedly avoiding his gaze.

"Felicity," he says lowly. She doesn’t acknowledge him but stares more determinedly at her screen. "Felicity," he repeats, his voice harder, more demanding, and her shoulders tighten-whether from anger or the way he said her name, he doesn’t know. She continues to ignore him, but Oliver is determined and after nearly a minute of taciturn silence, she finally looks at him.

"No, Oliver," she states, her eyes narrowed in anger. "Absolutely not," she adds and stands, grabbing a stack of files from her desk and walking around it toward his office. "How many times do I have to tell you that I will not have sex with you at work?" she asks as she storms through the doors of his office, him following far enough behind that he gets a good view of the sway of her hips. "I can’t believe you did that during a meeting! Did you see the looks on everyone’s faces? The gossip is bad enough already without you feeling me up in front of other employees," she says in near-loud voice and slams the files she’s carrying onto his desk.

Silently, he steps up behind her, pressing her against the edge of his desk as he wraps his arms around her body, his hands fisting in the material of her dress. She slams her hands onto the surface of his desk out of some mix of frustration and desire, but she doesn’t push him away. With a sigh, she pushes back into him and Oliver smiles triumphantly against the skin of her neck.

"Felicity," he says slowly, stretching each syllable out until they each have their own meaning.

"What, Oliver?" she asks, her voice now more full of lust than anger.

"I need to taste you," he whispers in her ear and she bites her lip to stifle a groan. He takes that as invitation to continue, but she pushes his hands away when he tries to lift her skirt.

"Not in a room with glass walls," she grinds out and then pushes away from the desk. She grabs his hand and drags him toward the private bathroom attached to the office.

Oliver has barely kicked the door closed behind them before his hands are on her again, turning her and lifting her up so he can set her on the counter next to the sink. He grabs her knees and roughly spreads her legs so he can step between them. His hands fall to her ass and he pulls her tight around his hips and is rewarded when Felicity grinds against him.

As much as he likes the feeling, that can wait. He started this with a specific plan in mind. He pulls back, pauses a moment to smirk at how flushed Felicity’s face is and then drops to his knees, pushing her skirt up and out of the way and pulling her to the edge of the counter.

Usually, Oliver likes to take his time. Likes to run his knuckles slowly up Felicity’s legs and make her shiver with anticipation, press his lips to every inch of her skin except where she wants him, take off her panties with his teeth, tease her into a frenzy until she begs.

But that can also wait for another time. This time, he tears the fabric of her panties apart with his hands–Felicity gasping at the sound–throws the useless scrap over his shoulder and buries his mouth against her.

He starts using just his mouth. After she comes a second time, he adds his fingers and she stops trying to keep quiet. By the time he’s finished with her, Felicity is panting, leaning back against the mirror above the sink with her hands fisted in his hair. Oliver looks up at her, smiling in satisfaction as she tries to collect herself and sucks a hickey into her thigh, already slightly raw from where his scruff scratched against her skin. After a minute, she looks down at him, her cheeks and chest flushed and glistening with sweat and he’s suddenly very aware of how restricting his pants are.

Oliver only takes his lips from her long enough to stand and press himself between her legs before he’s kissing her mouth. Felicity wraps her legs around his waist and rubs herself against him. After a minute, he reaches down between them and starts to undo his belt, the fabric of his pants slightly damp from where she’s been pressed against him–until Felicity reaches down and pulls his hands away to replace them with her own.

She pushes him back so she can stand and then walks him backward, his back hitting the tiled wall of the bathroom the same moment she wraps her hand around him.

"Felicity," he groans as she starts to stroke him, already so hard it hurts. He whimpers when she steps back, lets go of him and presses herself back against the counter, but then he takes it as a sign that she’s ready and he’s even more excited. So, he reaches into his pocket and takes out a condom, fumbling to put it on. He’s distracted a moment as he watches her lift her skirt, putting herself on display, then grab a handful of paper towels and use them to wipe the away the slickness on her thighs. It seems odd to him, but before Oliver can ask her why, she steps forward to help him roll the condom on the rest of the way. He closes his eyes and throws his head back against the cool tile as she teases him and when she lets go, he opens his eyes and expects to find her sitting on the counter again, waiting for him.

Instead, he finds Felicity running another paper towel under the water of the sink and then using it to clean her smudged lipstick. After a moment, she discards it, turns to him and then moves toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Oliver asks huskily, his mind too addled by desire to understand what she could possibly be doing.

"Don’t you remember the rules?" she asks, a wicked smile on her lips. "No sex in the office," she says flippantly and then steps out of the room, softly closing the door behind her.

Fuck.


	9. Crash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt: Olicity-Rehearsal dinner.
> 
> Listen, I don’t know what happened here. One minute I’m trying to make sure I don’t retread any ground i covered in “Firsts” and the next there’s a puppy. I don’t apologize.

There were days John Diggle thought those two idiots would never figure it out.

For years, he had watched his partners in crime fighting slowly wander toward each other, wishing he could knock some sense into them but knowing they had to get there on their own.

As he sat across a banquet table from them now at the rehearsal dinner for their wedding, he couldn’t help but think of the long winding road they’d taken to get to this point. The years spent watching Oliver try to recapture his past with the Lance sisters, too busy shifting his attention back and forth between them to notice the woman right in front of him. The fleeting, forgettable men Felicity had dated, or at least tried to date. Each relationship failing because they sensed what she couldn’t or wouldn’t admit: she was already committed to someone else. It had been at turns immensely amusing and frustrating that literally  _everyone_  could see it but them.

They had the highest capacities for denial of anyone John had ever met; he’d give them that much.

In the end, it wasn’t an insane criminal threatening their lives or some personal betrayal or even a god damn earthquake machine that brought them to their senses and saved John from his misery.

No, it was a puppy.

Crash, as he eventually came to be called, came into their lives with just that sound.

_They were walking toward the secret entrance at the back of Verdant one night after a mission when a terrific sound from the direction of the dumpsters had startled them. Oliver had jumped protectively in front of Felicity and left him, Sara and Roy to fend for themselves. They had remained still a moment, expecting an attack until a dirty ball of fur came tumbling out of the piles of trash._

_"Oh my God," Felicity had gasped and stepped around Oliver to approach the frightened puppy. "Hey little, guy," she had said softly, squatting down and reaching out to the dog._

_"Felicity, be careful," Sara had warned, sometimes equally protective of her best friend as Oliver could be._

_"Oh he’s fine," Felicity had said, picking up the dog and checking its underside to make sure she had the right pronoun. She hugged the dog to her chest and walked back toward them, clearly already having decided that the dog would be coming with them. But then Oliver stepped in front of her to block the door._

_"You’re not bringing him downstairs," he had stated, his voice almost as gruff as when he had his voice modulator on._

_"Oh come on," Felicity begged, "look at how cute this face is." She had lifted the tiny dog up so his face was even with hers, his little tongue and bright eyes only complemented by Felicity’s pouting._

_"Yeah, come on, boss," Roy had said mockingly. "He’s kinda cute," he had added and rscrubbed his fingers over the dog’s head._

_"He’s not staying here," Oliver had insisted, but his resolve was already gone._

_"He won’t," Felicity had assured. "I’ll take him home with me tonight and he’ll only be here until I can find his owners, if he has any." Oliver had sighed for a few moments and then frowned._

_"Fine," he had said and Felicity had bounced on her feet with excitement._

_Felicity eventually broke all of her promises, of course. No one claimed ownership over the dog after two weeks and by then it was for the best because she was totally enamored. Crash became as frequent a figure at Verdant as the rest of them and after the puppy destroyed a few pairs of shoes while she was at work, Felicity started dropping him off at the foundry everyday because there were unlimited tennis balls for him to play with and Roy could easily walk him during the day._

_Oliver had protested each time the situation changed, but the puppy made Felicity so happy that he eventually stopped trying._

_About a month after they found him, Diggle, Oliver and Felicity walked into the foundry after work to find the dog curled up at the bottom of the stairs. He tried to stand when he saw them, but had crumpled back to the floor and whimpered in pain._

_"Crash!" Felicity had yelled and ran the rest of the way down the stairs. The dog had whimpered and licked her face when she picked him up and Felicity had started to tear up. "I’m sorry, Oliver, I have to get him to the vet," she had said and tried to walk around them and up the stairs, but Oliver had reached out and stopped her._

_"Hey, it’s OK," he had said softly, clearly affected by how upset she was getting. "Let me drive you."_

_"No, that’s not—" she had started, but he quickly interrupted. "I insist," Oliver had said, which John thought was for the best considering how much Felicity was shaking._

_"Digg, let Sara and Roy know where we are when they get here," he had said, all business. "I’ll keep you posted."_

_John had nodded and watched them go, expecting at least Oliver to return later, but he hadn’t attached any special significance to the fact that the last message he received from Oliver that night explained that Crash had broken a paw and he was going to take Felicity home. It wasn’t until the next morning that he realized something had changed._

_Oliver had seemed on edge all morning, somehow jittery from the moment John picked him up from the Queen mansion. He hadn’t understood why until Felicity walked off the elevators at QC. Oliver had perked up like a dog when the clack of her heels had sounded on the marble floors, quickly standing when she finally appeared. The movement had caught her attention and she’d blushed when she saw him. She had smiled and waved awkwardly and Oliver had done the same. Felicity had turned away nervously and briskly walked to her desk and Oliver had straightened his tie, cleared his throat and walked to his office door._

_"Digg, would you mind running downstairs to the car?" he had asked lowly. "I think I might have left some papers in there."_

_"Sure," John had agreed, trying not to smile at Oliver’s obvious lie._

_They had inexplicably tried to hide their relationship and when they finally sat Team Arrow down and told them the news. Roy had pretty much summed it up, rolling his eyes and sarcastically saying, “Yeah, we know already.”_

John is suddenly distracted from his memories when a big slobbery tongue drags across his hand under the table. He scoots his chair back and finds the now fully-grown Crash staring up at him hopefully. John quickly glances up at the dog’s owners and finds them too busy gazing at each other so he quickly grabs a piece of steak off his plate and feeds it to the dog.

"You deserve it, buddy," he whispers and pats the dog on the head.


	10. Nuts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from msbnasc on Tumblr: Oliver taking care of Felicity. When she has an allergic attack in the middle of a party.

"Will you at least  _try_  to look like you want to be here?" Felicity leans in and whispers.

"But I don't," Oliver sighs. She frowns and glares at him over the top edge of her glasses and he has to suppress a smile because it makes her look like an angry librarian.

"Well,  _I_  know that and  _you_  know that, but all these potential investors don't," she chides and gestures at the collected guests milling around the QC executive offices. "Or, at least, they shouldn't be able to tell that you don't, but standing here sulking and avoiding conversation isn't helping."

"I'm talking to you," Oliver says and smirks. Felicity glares back and Oliver heaves a frustrated sigh. "I  _should_  be helping Diggle, Sara and Roy track down Slade," Oliver growls impatiently. Felicity's expression softens and she gently rests a hand on his forearm.

"They are perfectly capable," she says. "Besides, if you were there, all you'd be doing is yelling at Roy and distracting Sara."

"You're very funny," he responds wryly.

"Someone has to be," she says brightly. "Now go mingle with the other rich people," she adds and pushes against his shoulder. "I'm going to survey all the food." Oliver chuckles and shakes his head, reluctantly strolling over to the head of Saverin Industries to chat.

But they're only talking for a minute when he hears a commotion from the direction of the food tables. He turns to see Felicity surrounded by a small group of people. Her face has turned an an unsettling shade of red and she's trying to control her breathing. Oliver takes a step toward her and then suddenly switches direction, turning toward his office.

He goes straight to the locked filing cabinet behind his desk and removes her purse from where she asked him to store it during the party, rifling around in it until he finds the epinephrine shot she always carries. Felicity has been helped into a chair when he returns and he uncaps the shot when he reaches her, drops to his knees, lifts up the fabric of her skirt and presses the needle into her thigh. He holds it there until the liquid drains and then tries to rub the injection site like the directions call for when Felicity's hand stops him.

"I can do that," she says and glances around nervously. Oliver nods, stands and turns toward the caterer.

"You were given explicit instructions not to put nuts in any of the food for this event," he menaces.

"I'm sorry," the woman splutters. "I don't know how this could have happened."

"I suggest you find out," Oliver replies coldly, "because I will not hesitate to make sure this is the last business your company ever gets."

"Oli–, Mr. Queen, that's not necessary," Felicity interjects and grabs his arm. He turns to argue, but stops himself when he sees the stern look on her face. Felicity nods as if to say the business is settled and then takes her purse from his hand. "Where does my phone always hide?" she mutters to herself as she searches through it.

"Do you want me to call somebody?" Oliver asks.

"An ambulance," she says like he's slow.

"I'll take you."

"Oliver."

"Felicity."

She stares at him a moment and then sighs and stands. Oliver makes apologies as he leaves, ignoring the judgmental stare Isabel Rochev shoots at him as the elevator doors close.

Oliver texts Diggle about what happened and when he looks up, he finds Felicity digging through her purse again.

"Aha!" she says and pulls out a package of Benadryl. He watches her pop the pills out of the foil and then smiles to himself.

"You know, you didn't have to do this," Oliver starts, drawing her attention.

"What?" Felicity asks, confused.

"The party wasn't that bad. I could have thought of an excuse to go. Giving yourself an allergic reaction is a bit dramatic."

"Stop it," Felicity says with a laugh and smacks his arm playfully.

"See? I'm funny," Oliver replies. Felicity shakes her head in disagreement, but she keeps smiling as she gulps down the pills without water.

By the time they get to the emergency room, see a doctor and finally leave, Felicity is so drowsy she can barely stand. She's swaying like a drunk as he leads her to his car and she fights to stay awake so she can give him directions to her apartment. She stumbles when she's climbing out of the car and Oliver decides there's no way he's going to let her near the flight of stairs leading to her door. He scoops her up in his arms and Felicity jolts awake in surprise for a moment.

"You beast," she jokes and weakly slaps him in the chest. He's grateful that she manages to dig her keys out of her purse and tell him her apartment number before she plain passes out.

When he finally gets her door open, the task made difficult by the dead weight of her in his arms, Oliver sets her things down on a table just inside her door and then wanders around until he finds her bedroom. He sets her down on the bed, takes off her shoes and glasses and briefly considers changing her into something more comfortable before deciding that the awkwardness when she inevitably woke up during that wouldn't be worth it.

Oliver goes to her kitchen to get her a glass of water in case she wakes up in the middle of the night and he's just setting the glass down on her bedside table when his phone rings. He sends her a worried glance and then quickly runs into her en suite bathroom and picks up the phone.

"Hello?" he whispers.

"Hey," Diggle says, "how's Smoak?"

"Asleep," Oliver replies.

"You coming to the foundry?" he asks. Oliver sticks his head out of the bathroom door and looks at Felicity, her hair fanned out on her pillow and lightly snoring.

"I think I'll stay here and make sure she's OK," Oliver says.

"Alright," Diggle says, a peculiar tone in his voice, and then hangs up.

Oliver silences his phone, drags a comfy armchair into the bedroom from Felicity's living room and removes his jacket, tie and shoes before settling in for the night. He falls asleep to the sounds of Felicity mumbling in her sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a review on one or all of the drabbles I've put up lately, if you will.


	11. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from geodude96 on Tumblr: They’re pulling an all-nighter at the foundry (or are there late, in any case). Felicity has fallen asleep, but suddenly wakes up terrified because she had a nightmare about kangaroos (remember she said she was afraid of them?) and Oliver is there to comfort her. Bonus points for Diggle observing and quietly shipping them.

It's not uncommon for them to return from a mission and find Felicity asleep at her desk. Oliver always tells her she's free to leave once the work is done, but she's never once taken him up on the offer. So, when he and Diggle come back in the wee hours of the night after a long, fruitless stakeout and find her with her head resting on her crossed arms, fast asleep, Oliver's not surprised. It makes him smile even.

"You go ahead and change first," Oliver whispers to Diggle. "I'll wake her up." The other man nods and tiptoes toward the back room while Oliver silently approaches Felicity.

Typically, her sleep seems so peaceful that he can't help but envy her, but, tonight, something is different. He's well acquainted with what having a nightmare looks like and when he approaches her desk, he knows Felicity is in the grip of one: her hands are clenched, her forehead is creased in worry and covered in a light sheen of sweat, her indistinct murmurings are permeated with the unmistakable sound of fear.

"Felicity," he says softly, but it has no effect. "Felicity," he repeats more loudly, leaning down and resting a hand on her shoulder. She still doesn't wake and he has to shake her lightly, her words becoming more distinct as he does.

"Not in the pouch!" she yells, startling herself awake and causing Oliver to step back in surprise.

"Hey, it's OK," Oliver says comfortingly as she looks around wildly. "You're alright."

"Oliver," she sighs and relaxes, finally realizing where she is.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asks, squinting in confusion. "You said something about a pouch?"

"Oh," Felicity says and blushes. "Um, kangaroos?" she says and grimaces.

"Kangaroos," Oliver repeats because that is pretty much the last thing he ever expected her to say.

"Uh, yeah, I kinda have a phobia," she says, but seems to understand from the skeptical look on Oliver's face that that doesn't quite explain it. "This is actually pretty common for me," she says with a resigned sigh. "Usually, I'm in a desert landscape, totally alone, when a giant kangaroo hops up out of nowhere and starts chasing me. Usually, I wake up before it catches me, but I guess when you tried to wake me up, the contact changed the dream and this time it caught me and picked me up and it was gonna put me in that dark, gross pouch and...Oliver, don't you dare laugh at me."

He snorts and then covers his mouth with his hand. "I'm sorry," he says and collects himself. "But it's a kangaroo, Felicity."

"Do you even know anything about them?" she asks defensively and then goes on to list kangaroo-related facts, counting them off on her fingers. "The groups they travel in are called 'mobs,' they box and kick each other for fun basically, they can hop like 40 miles an hour." She doesn't get farther than that because her diatribe has the opposite of her desired effect and Oliver is practically shaking with laughter.

"Stop it," she says, sounding hurt. She tries to slap his arm, but he easily dodges the blow. "Hey, not all of us have nightmares about the deserted islands we were trapped on," she grumbles and it immediately extinguishes Oliver's mirth, the reminder of the images that keep him awake most nights and the fact that she somehow knows about them stinging.

"Oh, God, Oliver, I didn't mean..." she starts and stands. She fidgets a bit and when she speaks, she waves her hands around awkwardly, the words coming in a rush. "You were asleep on the plane back from Russia and you started talking in your sleep about Slade and Shado and Sara. And then you started getting louder and all sweaty so I tried to wake you up, but then you kind of swung at me." Oliver flinches at the thought and tries to draw away again, but Felicity sets a comforting hand on his arm. "It's fine, I probably should have realized that was a bad idea," she says softly.

"Eventually, I just sat down next to you and rubbed your head. That's how my grandmother used to calm me down after a nightmare," she explains, her voice small and sad as she automatically reaches up to demonstrate. She freezes when her fingers first tangle in his hair and looks at him apologetically–like she's crossed a line–but then Oliver shuts his eyes and leans into her touch and she moves her hand again, sending a tingle down his spine as her nails scrape against his scalp. Her hand comes to rest on the side of his neck and Oliver opens his eyes again and smiles at her.

"Thank you," he says sincerely and places a hand on her shoulder, even more touched by what she did because he remembers how furious Felicity was with him then.

"You're welcome," she says just above a whisper.

It's then that Diggle walks back into the room, but when he sees the way his partners are standing, he stops and retreats to give them a few more moments and wonders for the thousandth time when they'll figure it out already.


	12. Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from Tumblr: Felicity in the hood (and nothing else *wink*), or a dress that color and super possessive and jealous Oliver, smut ensues. Pre-relationship, so it could be a gala or something for the dress.

When they talk about it later, Oliver and Felicity decide that all blame can be placed squarely on the color green. Specifically, the shade of forest green of his Arrow uniform and the dress he watched her take off.

For Oliver, the color became a problem during the party. Felicity was there under the guise of his assistant (not much of a stretch considering it was true) to hack into the files of the businessman throwing it. That had gone smoothly. The hitch had come when said businessman began to flirt with her.

But it had all really started much earlier. From the moment he and Diggle had picked Felicity up from her apartment, something was different. She was always beautiful, but to see her draped from head to toe in his color, so personal and familiar, had satisfied Oliver in a way he hadn’t expected. She had smiled when she spotted him standing on the sidewalk in front of her building and he unceremoniously left Diggle mid-conversation to walk toward her. He had tried to focus on the work the rest of the night–though other than being her ticket into the event, he had little to do–and instead ended up staring at her every chance he got.

He couldn’t decide what he liked most about the dress. There was the floor length skirt that clung to her in all the right ways and ended just above her toes, the flash of skin and bright red of her nails making him wish he could see more of her legs. The bunched fabric on the front that accentuated the curves of her hips and the flattering cut of the neckline that made it hard to look away from the shadows and angles of her chest and shoulders. Yet it was the back that really drove Oliver to distraction.

Thick bands of fabric criss-crossed the length of her back, the effect somehow more erotic than if there were no fabric covering it at all. He stared at the naked patches of skin, wondering what it would be like to place his hand in the largest one in the middle and once–unaware he was even doing it–he reached out to do so when Felicity suddenly turned toward him. He quickly pulled his hand away and schooled his features and he was glad she was too busy staring at her tablet to notice.

Though he might not have been been compelled to act at all if their mark hadn’t done exactly what he had wanted to do all night and placed his hand gently against her skin, right in that space Oliver had spent so much time admiring. He whispered something in her ear and Felicity’s laughter only made Oliver more indignant. Who did that bastard think he was, touching her when she was wearing his color? And then he had a sobering thought: the dress meant nothing. Felicity wasn’t his.

She could wear his color, spend her days working in his office and her nights helping him save the city and he could tell himself she would always be there for him, but he had no real claim on her. In fact, he had spent much of the time they knew each other making sure he didn’t. He had complicated her life enough by making her a party to his nightly activities, the least he could do was to let her personal life remain untainted. Yet in that moment, all he could think about was how desperately he wanted to change that. How much he  _wanted_  to have a claim on her, to be allowed to press his hand to the skin of her back and have her turn and smile at him in a way that meant something other than politeness. He quickly interrupted their conversation under some pretense and by the time they left the party, he decided he was done keeping his distance.

But he didn’t tell her then. That didn’t happen until later that night, after they’d returned to Verdant and–so Felicity had thought–gone their separate ways for the night. She was walking through her apartment toward her bedroom, slightly tipsy from all the wine the party’s host had plied her with, when she suddenly decided that she couldn’t wear her heels for on second longer. She stood on one leg and kicked her other heel up behind her to reach down and pluck it off, but lost her balance. She was just beginning to tip over, bracing herself for the impact, when she felt a pair of strong hands wrap around her waist. She let out a startled scream and batted her hands against whoever it was when she noticed the green hooded figure standing in front of her.

"Oliver!" she said. "You scared the bejeezus out of me. What are you…?" she continued, but lapsed into silence when her eyes meet his. His mask was on, but she felt like she had never seen him so plainly. She had imagined him coming to her dressed as the Arrow more times than she wanted to admit (though Oliver eventually found a way to make her tell that they both enjoyed immensely), but fantasy was a pale shadow compared to reality. Tentatively, she pushed his hood back with both hands and then slid his mask off too, throwing it to the ground before she rested her hands on either side of his face. His eyes closed as Felicity lightly scrubbed her nails through the scruff on his jaw and she gasped when he turned to press his lips to her palm. He trailed kisses along her hand until he reached the tip of her thumb and opened his eyes at the same moment that he bit down. She bit her lip at the sensation, not because it hurt, but because of the way he looked at her when he did it.

Felicity never knew who moved first, but one moment Oliver was saying her name, low and intense, and the next they were kissing. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his hips. When he pressed her against the wall, she thought that even though her bedroom was no more than ten feet away, it felt like miles. His hands felt like they were everywhere–slipping under the fabric covering her back or sliding beneath her to squeeze her ass or tangling in her hair. She wondered if hers felt the same to him as she tried to touch as much of him as she could; she dragged her nails through his hair and down his back, finally deciding that it wasn’t enough contact. She needed skin.

She moved her hands between them, pulling the zipper of his jacket down and he stopped kissing her to watch. He threw his head back with a groan when she pulled it open and slipped her hands under the leather, finally touching the hard muscles she’d spent so much time admiring. Felicity leaned forward to press her lips to his throat, lightly nipping at the skin and then slid her hands down. She slipped her fingers under the waistband of his pants, preparing to undo them, when Oliver’s hips thrust forward sharply and he slammed his hands against the wall beside her. She froze as she watched him, his shoulders squaring and the look of desire on his face so predatory that it should have frightened her, but made her wet instead.

With a smirk, he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her up, looping his arms under her legs so she was sitting on his shoulders. He lifted her skirt up and tore through the fabric of her panties and she only had a moment to think how hot that was before the feel of his tongue against her sent all coherent thought out the window.

Oliver laced his fingers together over Felicity’s stomach to keep her in place and couldn’t quite decide what he liked more: the way she tasted or the way she looked above him. But then she moaned his name and the answer was clear. She bit her bottom lip to stifle a moan and Oliver pulled away, making her whimper.

"I want to hear you," he said and reached up a hand to pull her lip free. He waited for her to nod in agreement before starting again and it wasn’t long before her thighs started to shake. Her hands gripped for purchase, one tangling in his hair while the other slammed against the ceiling, pressing against it so she could grind herself down onto him even harder.

She came screaming his name and once she stopped writhing against him, he lowered her down and wrapped her legs around his hips, unsure if she could stand on her own right then. “Bedroom?” he asked, voice husky. She could only manage to point and he carried her in that direction, setting her down on her feet when they got there.

He stepped back from her to undress and she quickly did the same. She slid the straps of her dress down her shoulders and Oliver was just starting to slide his pants down his legs when he was stopped mid-action at the sight of the dress falling to the floor.

"Fuck, you’re beautiful," he groaned at the sight of her completely naked. It took Felicity stepping toward him and replacing his hands with hers before Oliver remembered that the faster he got undressed, the sooner he could take advantage of the fact. She kissed him as she pulled him toward the bed and he barely managed to kick off his pants and shoes before he fell on top of her.

At first, it was enough for Felicity to have his bulk pressing her down into the mattress as they kissed, bare skin pressed to bare skin. But then Oliver pushed up onto his knees between her legs and she felt the hard length of his cock rub against her thigh. She slipped a hand between them and wrapped her fingers around him, causing Oliver to groan and push up onto his hands. He shut his eyes as she stroked him and Felicity pushed him back so he was kneeling in front of her. She planned to give him as much pleasure with her mouth as he had given her, but when she dragged her tongue over his tip–tasting the fluid already built up there–he pushed her back by the shoulders.

"Not now," he said through gritted teeth. "Where–"

"In there," Felicity interrupted and pointed to her bedside table. Oliver smiled and then crawled across the bed, quickly grabbing a condom out of the top drawer. His hands shook so much that she took the packet from him, tore it open and rolled the condom on for him. She laid back and rubbed his tip against her. Once she had him lined up, he grabbed one of her hands in each of his, pressed them to the mattress above her head and then slid into her, making her gasp.

He started slow. The better to savor sliding every inch of his cock in and out of her and the sounds she made each time he did. But then she gave him that challenging look she often wore when they were in the middle of an argument, tightened her legs around his hips and dug her nails into the backs of his hands. Everything was fast after that. He slammed into her so hard and deep that her cries of pleasure barely drowned out the sound of her headboard hitting the wall.

When Felicity started to come undone, Oliver released one of her hands and licked his fingertips before pressing them to her clit. Her nails dug into his back as she came, drawing blood, and it was that as much as anything that made him lose control. A physical reminder of the fact that Felicity was now his. He sucked a hickey into her neck as his movements slowed–so she would be marked too–before he finally stilled and wrapped his arms around her, mirroring the way she was wrapped around him.

It was a few moments before he had the wherewithal to stand and throw away the condom, but he was back within seconds, pulling her on top of him and kissing her slowly. Felicity ran her hands through his hair and Oliver pulled away so he could lean into her touch. When he looked at her again, she was smirking.

"What?" he asked, tiling his head.

"So…you never said, why are you here exactly?" she joked and Oliver kissed her as he laughed.

"That dress," he groaned. "You looked so…and then he touched you…I needed…," he spluttered, unable to form a full sentence.

"I bought it with you in mind," Felicity said with a mischievous smile and wiggled her hips against him. "But I always imagined you tearing it off me." Oliver growled at the thought and the conversation came to an abrupt end.

The next morning, Oliver wakes up early, as he always does, and ignores Felicity’s groggy arguments against going to work that day. He’s determined not to budge–worried that if he caves now, this will become a habit–until she comes into the bathroom wearing just his Arrow jacket. It does very little to cover her. It’s unzipped to expose a creamy strip of skin running straight down her body, the hem barely reaching her legs and the hood bunched around her neck.

"Are you sure we have to go into work today?" she asks, clearly aware of how persuasive her outfit is.

"I’ll make some calls," he replies, slipping his hands under the leather of the jacket and wrapping them around her sides. He decides then that he’s going to fuck her while she wears it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not kidding when I say that this prompt contains pretty much everything I try to avoid as a writer: detailed descriptions of clothing, smut, first times. Despite how much I like detail, those are the elements I most try to leave more to the readers’ imaginations. So I threw out a couple concepts before I finally settled on this. Would love some feedback.


	13. Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from ohmypreciousgirl on Tumblr: Smoaking Canary - Sara introducing Felicity as her girlfriend to Quentin.

"But my Dad already knows you," Sara whined, flopping moodily onto Felicity's bed.

"Yes, but as the resident tech support for every vigilante in Starling City, not as your girlfriend," Felicity argues from her apartment's en suite bathroom.

"He probably already figured it out," Sara says with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"What makes you think that?" Felicity asks as she flicks off the bathroom light and walks out in Sara's favorite tank top-short short combo.

"He's probably figured out something's up by the fact that I'm still living with you after all this time instead of getting my own place," Sara replies.

Felicity rolls her eyes as she climbs over Sara to her side of the bed instead of walking around and Sara takes advantage of the opportunity. She grabs Felicity by the hips, pulling her down so she's straddling her.

"Well, even so," Felicity says and grabs Sara's hands, stopping her from pulling Felicity's shorts down. "I'm not sure I'm very confident in your Dad's powers of observation anyway."

"Why not?" Sara asks defensively.

"He can't even figure out that Oliver's the Arrow."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I mean, how has he not figured it out already? I know the case he brought against Oliver when he first got back threw him off the scent, but come on. You and the Arrow have clearly known each other longer than the time you've been back and he has to wonder how you and Oliver both ended up on the island but you were the only one who turned into a badass. And, really, given all the face-time they have, I don't know how he can't just _tell_ it's Oliver. He's got the most distinctive jawline ever."

Sara laughs and flips Felicity onto her back, the other woman gasping a startled "oh!" as she hits the bed, and Sara smiles as she settles between her legs.

"Why are we talking about Oliver?" she asks with a mischievous smile and leans down to kiss her. She hopes to distract her (her girlfriend is known for how easily distractible she is, after all), but when she tries to slide her hands under Felicity's shirt, she grabs both of Sara's shoulders and pushes her back.

"Oh no you don't," she admonishes. "We are going to finish this conversation."

With a frustrated sigh, Sara rolls off Felicity and lands on her back next to her on the bed, pouting up at the ceiling as they lay in silence a few moments.

"We don't have to tell anyone if you don't want to," Felicity starts, her voice small and unsure. "I just thought, since we told Team Arrow...that you didn't mind."

"Hey," Sara says and grabs Felicity's hand, turning to look at her. "I could never be ashamed of us. I love you. It's just," she pauses, trying to find the right words, "when I told my Dad about Nyssa, that was in the past. I don't know how he's going to react to me being in a relationship with a woman right now." Sara looks away to where their hands are intertwined between them. Felicity rolls on her side and gently turns Sara to face her.

"I love you too," Felicity says in that soft, caring voice Sara thinks might be her favorite thing about her. "And so does your Dad. I may not be terribly confident in his powers of observation, but I'm sure he'll just be happy that you're happy." Sara frowns and glances away, still unsure, and it takes Felicity brushing her fingers through her hair to get her attention again. "We hide so much about our lives already," she says softly. "I don't ever want to hide us." Sara leans over and kisses her then, because she's so thankful and awestruck at how confident Felicity is in her and them. So, when she pulls away again–wanting to just marvel at the fact that this woman is hers–she's surprised to see tears forming in the corners of Felicity's eyes.

"Besides," she starts again, "his reaction can't be any worse than my mother's."

And then Sara realizes why this is so important to her. She remembers with painful clarity the day she came home last week and found Felicity sitting on her couch, clutching her phone and inconsolably crying after telling her mother they were dating. Sara is going to give that woman a piece of her mind if they every have the misfortune of meeting. She rolls over and lays herself gently on top of Felicity, taking her face in both her hands and gently pressing her lips to hers.

"OK," she says softly when she pulls back, "I'll call him and tell him to meet us for lunch tomorrow."

"Thank you," Felicity replies and wraps her arms around Sara, squeezing her legs against her hips at the same time.

The next time she dries to undress Felicity, Sara succeeds.

* * *

"Ms. Smoak!" Quentin says in surprise when they approach him outside the restaurant the next day. "What are you doing here?"

"Um, she's eating with us," Sara says nervously. "Felicity and I are..." she starts, but can't quite say the words because of the look on her dad's face.

"You're dating _her_?" he asks incredulously and points at Felicity.

"That's right," Felicity says proudly and squeezes Sara's hand.

Of all the reactions Sara considered, Quentin smiling and wrapping Felicity in a hug was not on her list.

"That's wonderful," he beams and releases her after a moment.

"You're not mad?" Sara asks timidly.

"Of course not," he replies and pulls her in for a hug too. "I just want you to be happy, sweetheart. I was honestly worried you were dating Oliver." Sara laughs and her father steps back and turns to Felicity before adding, "I actually thought _you_ were dating him for awhile too."

"Oh no," Felicity says and waves her hands adamantly. "Your daughter is the only masked vigilante I–" she stops when she realizes what she's said and starts trying to sputter an excuse, but Quentin cuts her off.

"What did you just say?" he asks, his body tensing. Felicity sends a helpless, panicked glance in Sara's direction and she can't help but laugh.

"This was your idea," Sara teases.


	14. Then and Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few months back, the 3rd chapter of this drabble collection became the 1st chapter of an Oliver/Felicity/Sara smut fic called "Friendly Competition." Of all the things I've ever written, that is the fic that most consistently gets people asking for more. I never planned on adding anything more, but there was a discussion on Tumblr a few weeks back where someone (ohmypreciousgirl) posited that Oliver was a selfish lover pre-island and only now thinks it's worthwhile to spend any time with his head between Felicity's legs. This meshed well with my personal headcanon that pre-island Oliver was in fact TERRIBLE in bed. Thus this scene was born.

"So, is Oliver different now?" Felicity asks as she uncorks their second bottle of wine.

"How do you mean?" Sara asks and holds out her glass.

"Like, in bed?" she explains and pours her a hearty glass. "Compared to before the island or during it or whatever. I mean, I know he's probably stronger now, definitely has better stamina, but I'm talking about overall experience. Is he more controlling? Rougher?"

"Mm," Sara hums says and points with the hand holding her glass, nearly spilling its contents in the process. "Definitely rougher," Sara explains and then lifts the glass to her lips again, but stops just short. "Although I'm probably rougher now too."

"You both have your moments," Felicity interjects and sips her wine demurely.

"That doesn't bother you, right?" Sara asks, flinching.

Felicity bites her bottom lip and smiles. "It's a little overwhelming sometimes," she admits, "but my brain's pretty sharp. I welcome the challenge." Sara smiles predatorily and Felicity blushes.

"What else?" she asks and leans back on the couch's armrest, putting her feet in Sara's lap. Sara takes a moment to run her hands over her legs before answering.

"I think the biggest difference is that he's just  _better_ ," she says with a shrug.

"Really?" Felicity says incredulously. "Was he bad before?"

"Kinda," she responds with a laugh and Felicity throws her head back and laughs too. "I mean, he always had a nice body, and good size," she adds and Felicity raises her eyebrows knowingly. "He just wasn't very good at it, you know? No finesse. All jack-hammering and 'you like that?' and definitely no cuddling after."

"Whoa," Felicity says and shakes her head in disbelief.

"Honestly, back then, his version of pillow talk was repeatedly asking if we could try anal next time." Felicity chokes on her wine then, the red liquid spilling onto her shirt as she laughs.

"Damn it," she says when she manages to catch her breath.

"Let me help you clean that up," Sara says and sets her glass down on the coffee table. She smiles as she crawls up the couch, spreading Felicity's legs to kneel between them and then leaning down to lick the wine dappling her neck and chin.

"I can't believe he used to be that bad," Felicity mutters and then sighs as Sara kisses her.

"He wasn't so much bad as selfish," Sara says after a moment. "I used to have to  _beg him_  to go down on me."

"Wait, seriously?" Felicity interrupts, sitting up. "That's like his favorite thing."

"Not then and he was terrible at it," Sara says. "Not that I realized that at the time. But my first time with Nyssa…wow," she says and shivers at the memory.

"Well, he's amazing at it now," Felicity says and sets her wine glass down so she can place her hands on Sara's hips. "Like, mind-blowing."

"Better than me?" Sara asks, smiling mischievously. Felicity blushes and looks away.

"I don't know if I'd go that far," she admits. Sara smiles and leans down to kiss her and she's just slipping her hands under Felicity's skirt when the sound of the front door opening draws their attention.

"Hey," Oliver says and smiles, always pleased when he finds them in a compromising position. "Thought we could make dinner tonight," he says and lifts a bag onto the kitchen island. "I was getting sick of eating out every night."

It's a long time before Felicity and Sara stop laughing long enough to tell him what's so funny.


	15. That One Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from everylastline on Tumblr (quisininart4 on here and a damn fine writer too): Prompt request please - established olicity, Oliver adorable and jealous and disgruntled when he finds out Felicity and Digg shared a drunken kiss one night. Like maybe there was a movie night and Felicity had a bit too much to drink and aimed for his cheek and landed on his lips. No biggie but Oliver is all adorably jealous about it :)

"Why is this such a big deal?" Felicity asks as she walks down the stairs to the Verdant basement. "It happened one time."

"I just don’t understand why this is the first time I’m hearing of it," Oliver says, following her down the steps. "When was this?"

She lets out an exasperated sigh before she answers. “It was a long time ago,” she explains. “When you went back to Lian Yu after the Undertaking.” She stops talking then, hoping to end the discussion there and walks toward her desk. She sits down, ready to work, but apparently Oliver isn’t satisfied. He spins her chair around to face him and he glowers at her, arms crossed over his chest.

"You are ridiculous," Felicity sighs and rolls her eyes. "It was nothing. You were gone, I was lonely, Digg was nice enough to listen to me whine. Beers were involved. And you know how I get when I get a little alcohol in my system. There was some tongue and at least one shirt was removed before things cooled off. Is that enough information for you?"

Oliver scowls and drops his hands to his sides, balling them into fists.

"You know what?" he says. "You’re right, I don’t need to hear this."

"Oh come on," Felicity yells after him as he stalks toward the back.

If he hits Diggle a little harder than usual while they’re sparring later, he’ll never admit it.


	16. That Other Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to write a follow-up to the last chapter, but everylastline is a siren and I have no self-control.

"So is he better than me?"

"Oh my God, Oliver, are you seriously asking me this?" Felicity asks.

"I just want to know," he replies.

"For what reason?" she counters, edging into Loud Voice territory.

"Matter of pride, OK?" he says with a shrug. "I'm not asking for details. I just want to know: is he better than me?" Felicity opens her mouth to respond, but Oliver interrupts before she can speak. "And don't just say no, because you think it's what I want to hear."

She contemplates for a moment and then narrows her eyes and bites her lip, "I mean..."

"Oh my God," Oliver says and throws his hands in the air. "Are you actually going to say, 'yes?"

"I thought you wanted me to be honest?" she responds defensively.

"Not really! Obviously, you're supposed to _pretend_ to think about it and then say, 'oh, of course not, baby. You're the best I've ever had.'"

"You are seriously acting like a 13-year-old girl right now," Felicity says and looks at him like he's a stranger. Oliver opens his mouth to respond when Diggle walks out from the back, having changed back into his street clothes.

"Damn, Oliver, you worked me over good," he says and flexes his shoulders.

"Yeah and you deserved it," Oliver accuses.

"What did I do?" Diggle asks.

"I told him about us," Felicity says and waves her hand dismissively.

"Felicity," he says and gives her a disapproving look. "I thought we agreed–"

"Hold on," Oliver interrupts. "You guys _actively_ hid this from me?" he asks, aghast.

"With good reason," Diggle replies. "Look at the way you're reacting."

"Don't you start," Oliver says and points at him threateningly. Diggle sighs, rolls his eyes and turns to Felicity.

"Was he this bad when you told him about Sara?"

"WHAT?!" Oliver yells.

"Damn it, John," Felicity says and frowns at him and Diggle shrugs apologetically.

"When the hell would that have even happened?" Oliver asks, his voice low and menacing. "Were we together then?"

"Who do you mean by 'we?'" Felicity asks, looking timid.

Oliver gasps and looks indignant when the sound of the door opening draws their attention and the blonde in question walks in.

"Sara run!" Felicity yells before Oliver can say anything. "He knows!" For a moment, Sara crouches like an animal in danger as she takes in the scene and then she's off running faster than Oliver's ever seen.

"Oh no you don't!" he bellows and runs after her. By the time he reaches the top of the stairs, Roy is just walking in and Oliver unceremoniously pushes him out of the way. He stares after him a moment, confused, and then heads down the stairs.

"What was that about?" he asks and points a thumb over his shoulder.

"Don't ask," Diggle and Felicity say in unison.


	17. Sick Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My final drabble for a bit, based on this prompt from veryplatoniccircunstances on Tumblr: What about, Felicity doesn't show up to work at QC in the morning and doesn't return any calls. Oliver goes to her apartment (with or without Digg, you can choose) and find out she's passed out, still in towels, like she fainted or something. Felicity is sick and Oliver is worried to death in a way he can't even hide it, like he usually does with all his emotions. :)) (established olicity or not, you can pick!)
> 
> Let me preface this by saying that I had to bend my definitions of believability a bit here. I honestly think Oliver would drag Felicity's ass directly to the hospital, but hospitals lack a certain intimacy.

When the clock strikes 10, Oliver knows something must be wrong. Felicity is never this late, or ever late, really. More often than not, she's ready and waiting at her desk a full half hour before QC offices technically open.

"Any luck?" Diggle asks as Oliver hangs up his phone.

"No," he grumbles. "It went straight to voicemail again, like the last ten times."

"Her phone must be off," Diggle says, glancing down at his own cell. "That must be why the tracking app she put on all our phones isn't reading hers. Maybe she's just taking a day off. She said she was feeling a little under the weather yesterday."

"But she would call," Oliver says and paces in front of her desk. "She's never been out of contact this long. Something must be wrong." He turns and walks briskly around Felicity's desk to get the spare house keys she keeps there and then heads toward the elevators. "I'll go to her apartment and you head to Verdant to check the trackers she put on our cars."

"Don't you have meetings all morning?" Diggle asks, skeptical. Oliver huffs in frustration and repeatedly presses the button for the elevator.

"I'm sure my mother and Ms. Rochev can go on without me," he says and takes out his phone to let them both know.

Oliver taps his foot impatiently throughout the cab ride to Felicity's apartment (he really needs to to start keeping a car at QC for emergencies), hands the driver a wad of bills when they arrive and tells him to keep the change. He sees Felicity's car parked along the sidewalk out front and calls Digg to let him know. He bounds up the stoop and, once inside the building, takes the stairs instead of the elevator because he doesn't want to wait.

He pauses at her front door when he reaches it, inspecting the frame and locks. Nothing looks amiss, but he opens the door as softly as possible in case someone other than Felicity is waiting inside. He wanders the rooms, not noticing anything out of place. Until he reaches the bedroom.

"Felicity!" he yells and runs to where she's sprawled out on the floor between her bed and the en suite bathroom, barely covered by a towel wrapped around her body. He kneels next to her and lifts her up slightly. "Felicity, wake up," he says and gently pats her cheek. Her eyes flutter open and she looks up at him through bleary eyes.

"Oliver?" she says, teeth chattering.

"Hey," Oliver says, relief flooding through him. He picks her up, letting the damp towel fall to the floor and carries her to the bed. He sets her down and quickly covers her with blankets and then goes into her bathroom to searches the shelves until he finds a bottle of aspirin. He runs to her kitchen to grab a glass of water and calls Diggle to let him know she's alright, relatively speaking.

"Felicity," he says firmly, lifting her head off the pillow. "Take this," he says and holds the pills to her mouth. She whines at first, but finally parts her lips and Oliver raises the glass for her to drink. She manages to swallow the pills down, but quickly goes into a coughing fit and Oliver cringes at the sound. The blankets slip down her body as she does and Oliver quickly turns around, blushing as he remembers she's not wearing anything. He walks over to the chest of drawers across the room and rifles around until he finds the biggest, fluffiest, pinkest pajamas he's ever seen. Perfect. He takes them out and turns back toward her to find Felicity passed out again. He's thankful for the fact as he dresses her, strenuously trying to avoid letting his eyes or hands linger.

He wraps Felicity in the blankets again once he's done, but she's shivering even in her sleep and Oliver realizes her body isn't generating enough heat on its own. He considers his options a moment and then quickly takes off his jacket and tie, kicking off his shoes as well before he climbs into the bed. He scoots up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

For the first few minutes, she continues to shiver, but soon, some combination of his body heat and the aspirin starts to help. As Felicity's breathing slows, her sleep becoming more restful, Oliver finds his own eyes beginning to droop. Sleep hasn't come easy to him since he returned from Lian Yu, so he's tired more often than not. He tells himself he'll only shut his eyes for a few minutes; he's never asleep long before he's woken by a nightmare. So, he snuggles closer and falls asleep with the scent of Felicity's hair filling his lungs.

* * *

 

He wakes to the sound of her voice.

"OK, this is definitely not a dream," she says, voice stuffy and raw. "Oliver? What are you doing here?" She turns and faces him and looks surprised to find him laying so close. "Why are you in my bed?"

"Um, sorry," he starts, unwrapping his arms from around her and quickly climbing out from under the covers. He stands awkwardly at the side of the bed as Felicity sits up, rubbing her eyes groggily. "You didn't show up for work," he explains, "and you wouldn't pick up your phone. We thought something was wrong so Diggle went to Verdant and I came here."

"Didn't you have meetings all morning?" she asks, still clearly a little out of it.

"I cancelled them," he explains. "I found you passed out over there," he says and points to the floor in front of her bathroom. "You were shaking when I found you, so I gave you an aspirin and I couldn't think of any other way to warm you up other than, um, body heat." He stops there, hoping Felicity won't think too much about what he's said when she suddenly stops rubbing her face and her eyes go wide with horror.  
"Wait a second," she says and looks down at herself, "I don't remember putting this on. When you found me, was I...uh...naked?" she whispers the last word like it's indecent and Oliver has to suppress a smile.

"Yes," he says and all the color that returned to Felicity's cheeks while they slept suddenly drains away.

"Oh God," she mutters and then sinks into the bed, pulling the covers over her head so Oliver can only see her fingers and the blue of her nails clutching at the comforter.

"It wasn't a big deal," Oliver says comfortingly and sits down on the bed next to the lump that is Felicity.

"That's exactly what a girl likes to hear," she replies, her voice muffled by the blankets.

"You know what I mean," he says. "Just one friend helping another. No big deal. We don't ever have to talk about this again." She doesn't respond this time, just tightens her grip on the blankets. Oliver looks around the room, trying to think of a way to make Felicity more comfortable when he spots a clock on her bedside table and smiles.

"You know," he starts, his voice enticing, "it's about an hour past our usual lunch time. I bet you're pretty hungry considering you didn't even get breakfast." She doesn't say anything, but she shifts under the blankets. "Breakfast sounds good doesn't it? Big stack of pancakes covered in syrup. Side of bacon, or I guess turkey bacon in your case. Maybe one of those veggie omelets you like from Alice's with lots of melted cheese." He pauses and leans down so his mouth is closer to where he presumes her ear to be. "Or maybe you prefer lunch. A Deluxe Big Belly with grilled onions. Side of fries, no, cheese fries. And an ice cold lemonade to wash it all down."

"OK, stop!" Felicity begs, throwing the covers off. "You're killing me."

"So what'll it be?" he says and stands, smirking in triumph. "Breakfast or lunch?"

"Breakfast," she says brightly, sounding almost like herself again. "Definitely pancakes. I also like your turkey bacon idea, but no eggs. Maybe like a bowl of fresh fruit or something instead. Ooh, and one of those chocolate scones."

"You sure that's enough?" he teases. "You want a couple muffins just in case?"

"Don't be mean," Felicity says and crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm sick," she adds with a pouty angry face that Oliver can't resist.

"OK, I'm sorry. Large coffee too? Two sugars, one cream, right?"

"Right," she says and smiles, some of the color returning to her face. "My purse is on the table near the door, just grab some money out of there."

"It's on me," he says. "But–" she starts and Oliver holds up a hand. "I insist."

"OK," Felicity agrees and snuggles under the blankets again. Oliver smiles and turns to go, trying to ignore the strange twinge of disappointment he feels when he realizes he won't be able to climb back under the covers too when he gets back.


	18. Role Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from Tumblr: I requested this one a little while ago too, but could you write a Sara/Felicity fic where Felicity gets caught trying on Sara's 'black canary' costume and Sara gets really turned on by the role-play?
> 
> This and the next drabble will be very loosely connected. This would be set in the show in the not too distant future, perhaps after a big showdown with Slade and while Oliver and Sara are still dating. Would love some feedback.

"So, why do you wear the wig?" Felicity asks, pointing at the item in question.

"It’s part of the disguise," Sara replies.

"But you’re already blonde," Felicity says and turns from the case in the foundry basement that houses Sara’s uniform to look at her. "Not much of a disguise. Why not brunette?"

"It’s not really about hiding," Sara explains and stands from Felicity’s desk chair. "Nobody finds out who I am unless I want them to. It’s about the ritual."

"What do you mean?" she asks and leans on the side of the case and Sara follow suit.

"Before I put everything on, I’m Sara. After, I’m her."

"What’s the difference?" Felicity asks, tilting her head and crinkling her forehead in that cute way Sara likes.

"It’s hard to explain," she admits, "but, in the League, they made us create these…personas for when we killed." Sara pauses and crosses her arms over her chest, worried that Felicity might be uncomfortable with hearing what she’s done, but–as she always has–the other woman just stares at her in that compassionate, encouraging way that’s become so familiar. "And I think it made it easier for awhile," she continues, voice low and thoughtful. "Like…" she pauses, struggling to find the write words, when Felicity finds them for her.

"Like you didn’t have to feel as responsible for what you did," Felicity says and then turns to look at the uniform again.

"Right," Sara agrees and wonders how this girl, who probably can’t even dream of the horrors she’s experienced, always manages to make her feel like her past means nothing.

"I think you should be proud of what you do when you wear that," Felicity says suddenly, turning back. "Regardless of what happened before, you’re a hero now," she explains and puts a comforting hand on Sara’s arm. She smiles at her a moment before dropping her hand and turning to the uniform again. "It’s like it lets you do anything," Felicity says, voice touched with something akin to awe. "Like it gives you power," she adds and Sara’s pretty sure she hears a hint of jealousy.

"Maybe you should try it on," she suggests on a whim, "test your theory."

"Oh no," Felicity says, blushing and looking timid. "I don’t have," she doesn’t finish the sentence, just awkwardly waves her hands in front of her chest.

"I think you’d make it work," Sara says and suddenly realizes how close they’re standing.

Oliver and Diggle choose that moment to walk into the basement and Felicity walks away–looking flushed and embarrassed–and Sara isn’t quite sure why she isn’t as happy to see her boyfriend as she usually is.

That comes a few days later.

Sara walks into the foundry on a Saturday afternoon, hoping to get in some solo workout time when she’s stopped dead in the middle of the stairs at the sight of Felicity wearing her uniform.

She was right, Felicity does fill it out well. The pants may be form-fitting on Sara, but they’re devastating on her. She doubts her own ass has ever looked that good in them. Not that the bustier isn’t accentuating all the right things too. But it’s really the mask that leaves her breathless. Felicity may be dressed like Sara, but she is still wholly herself. Her bright lipstick contrasts with the black of the mask, softening the dangerous edge but somehow making her seem more mysterious. Unaware that she has an audience, Felicity takes the wig off of the mannequin and eyes it before moving to put it on.

"Don’t," she commands and Felicity startles.

"Oh god, Sara," she splutters nervously, "I’m sorry," she adds and quickly places the wig back. "I didn’t think anyone would be here today." She fidgets as she babbles and Sara can’t help but smile at how cute it is. "I was sitting at my desk and I kept thinking about what you said the other day and I kept wondering if I’d feel different if I tried it on. And I definitely feel more intimidating. But, really, I’m more impressed that you can manage to kick ass when you wear this thing because I can hardly move."

"It’s fine," Sara says quietly, stepping close and lightly running her fingers through the loose strands of Felicity’s hair, which she rarely sees down. "You might be right about the wig. You look good," she adds, her voice husky.

"Thanks," Felicity says breathlessly and Sara can’t help but look at her lips.

She doesn’t know what she might have done in that moment, but she doesn’t get to find out because the sound of someone else opening the door to the basement draws their attention.

"Good, you guys are here," Oliver says as he makes his way down the stairs. "You don’t need to suit up quite yet, Sara, but–" he stops mid-stride when he realizes she isn’t the one in the uniform. Sara sees a familiar look of desire pass over his face as he stares at Felicity and she’s surprised at the wave of jealousy that flows over her.

But not because of Felicity,  _for_  her. It’s not that the man she’s dating is looking at another woman that way that bothers her, it’s that he would dare to do so when Felicity’s attire should tell him exactly who she belongs to.

It’s then that Sara realizes why she hasn’t been as happy with Oliver lately. Their relationship always feels so heavy, weighed down by history and lies. And she’s tired of feeling that way. She doesn’t want darkness and pain anymore. She wants light and laughter and hope because those are the things she loved before the island made her forgot how to want them. And Felicity is all those things.

She decides right then to break up with Oliver. When she does, Sara tells him that it’s because she knows he has feelings for Felicity. And while it’s true, she does it to throw him off more than to make him confront the truth. She knows he’s never been good at dealing with his emotions and she takes advantage of his confusion to ask Felicity out first. Sure it’s under the guise of needing to talk about the break up, but she thinks of it as a date and treats it like one.

All’s fair, as the saying goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good deal of the prompts I received are Sara/Felicity-centric, so if anyone has a problem with that, I suggest you might want to leave now.


	19. Sparring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, this drabble is a bit of continuation of the last one. Would love to hear some thoughts. Based on this prompt from Tumblr: Smoking canary: Oliver catches Felicity and Sara in the 'Arrow Cave'.

When he first walks into the foundry, he thinks they're sparring.

It's something Sara and Felicity have done a lot since he and the former broke up. He didn't read too much into it. Felicity really needed the training and Sara needed a friend. He was glad they got along so well, but seeing them together all the time hadn't helped his clarify his feelings about Felicity.

When Sara had first questioned their relationship–a few moments after breaking up with him–he had totally dismissed the idea. Felicity was his partner and friend, nothing more. But as the days passed, he realized he didn't really know what Felicity meant to him. She was his partner, yes, but he didn't think of her the same way he did Diggle. She didn't have their scars, didn't have their thirst for revenge or anger. She was just...good. Good in a way that reminded him why he kept being the Arrow. He knew that she felt like family and that he cared about her safety and happiness just as much as he cared about Thea's. Yet to say that he thought of her as a sister didn't feel right. He knew that she seemed to want more, but the idea of doing anything to jeopardize relationship seemed to big a risk. Even if that would help him clarify his feelings.

However, the exact nature of his feelings becomes abundantly clear when he realizes that Sara and Felicity are definitely not sparring considering they're making out half naked on the training mats. His initial shock is quickly followed by searing jealousy.

"What is going on?" he demands, the angry tone echoing around the space.

"Oliver!" Felicity yelps, throwing an arm across her chest as Sara pushes off of her. "We were just...we didn't think...," she splutters as she grabs her discarded shirt and covers herself with it. "Oh my God," she says again, covering her now beet red face with one hand and running off toward the restroom.

Oliver watches her naked back as she retreats and only looks at Sara again once she's out of sight. He turns to find her smiling smugly, in no hurry to put on her clothes.

"We didn't think you'd be here today, Ollie," she says with faux sweetness.

"What do you think you're doing?" he menaces, in no mood to play games.

"What do you mean?" she asks and finally finishes dressing.

"You know exactly what I mean," he says, stepping into her personal space. "You break up with me claiming that you think I've got feelings for Felicity and now I find you two together."

"Well, it wasn't a lie, Ollie," she replies, smirking up at him. "I just didn't tell you the whole truth."

"What's your game here, Sara?" he asks.

"I'm just doing what you couldn't work up the courage to do," she says. She steps closer then, narrowing her eyes at him and dropping all pretense of civility. "Looks like you won't get the chance now." She turns to walk away, but Oliver grabs her by the arm.

"I think you're overestimating your position," he challenges. "She's wanted me a hell of a lot longer than she's wanted you. Who knows how she'll react when I tell her I want her."

Sara lets out a short laugh and smirks. "I doubt she'll forget me completely," she says, "considering the way she just kissed me." Oliver's shoulders tense and he grinds his teeth.

"I won't back down," he states, voice firm.

"Neither will I," she replies and fixes him with a cold stare.

Their staring contest comes to an end, though, when the reason for it comes running toward them, dressed in her street clothes and quickly grabbing her coat off her chair.

"Barry's awake!" she says excitedly.

"What?" Oliver asks, his anger eliminated by his surprise.

"I have to leave now to make the next train to Central City. I'm sorry, Oliver, you don't mind do you?" Felicity asks, looking worried.

"Of course not," he says and squeezes her shoulder comfortingly. "Take as long as you need."

"Thanks," she says appreciatively before turning to Sara.

"We'll talk when I get back," she says lowly and leans in to kiss her cheek. Sara smiles in return and then they're left standing there as Felicity goes, frozen in place until they hear the basement door slam.

They stand in silence a moment and then Sara turns to Oliver and frowns in dissatisfaction. He can't help but sympathize.


	20. Character Traits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from Tumblr: (Present Olicity relationship) Olicity has cute moment in front of Sara & Laurel and the Lance sisters discussing what type of relationship Olicity really has. "Doesn't that ever bother you?"
> 
> So, this became more of a Laurel thing than I intended, but I want to make it clear that her characterization here is not meant as a diss to the character. I think, even though she's now working to better her life, her resentments and insecurities will still be there. And that's what I'm growing to like about her this season, she's being allowed to act like a flawed human being and not a dream girl.

"Are you sure you should be here?" Sara yells from her place behind the bar at Verdant.

"I'm fine," Laurel reassures, but Sara still looks worried. "Listen, I want to spend time with you," she says sincerely. "Get to know you again. Even if I have to hang out in a club to do it."

"Not exactly the best place for conversation," Sara replies, struggling to be heard over the pounding bass of the music.

"I'm realizing that now," Laurel yells back.

Sara smiles apologetically as she leaves to deal with a group of rowdy guys yelling for her attention at the other end of the bar. As Laurel watches her politely ignore their advances, she can't help but think how different this moment is than when she had visited her sister while she was bartending at Oblivion years ago.

She had walked in to find Sara standing on the bar, a circle of men staring up at her with rapt attention as she threw back a shot and then quickly stripped off her shirt. Sara had spent the rest of the night filling drink orders in her bra, clearly enjoying the attention. Including from Oliver, whom Laurel had foolishly brought along. Looking at her now, Laurel can scarcely believe she's the same girl.

In her memory, Sara was her crazy little sister. Always dating the wrong guy and always getting into trouble. While the former might still be true, Sara seems so much more subdued now. As with Oliver, she gets the sense that she's hiding so much pain, suffused with an air of sadness perhaps only the two of them can understand. They're both so much quieter now, more thoughtful in a way that she never thought they would be when they were younger. Sometimes she envies the peace they've seemingly found after all their trauma, especially because they seem to have found it in each other. She hates how selfish that is. But she also wonders why they seem so guarded, secretive in a way they weren't even when they were running around behind her back. Sometimes she wonders if they're hiding something more than just what happened to them during the last five years.

Laurel doesn't get to think about it much longer, though, because Sara finally returns, much to the clear disappointment of the group of men to whom she just gave drinks.

"Sorry about that," she starts and is suddenly distracted by something over Laurel's shoulder. She sees Sara's expression brighten and she's just about to turn to see why when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

"Laurel," Oliver says and she turns to smile at him. "It's nice to see you," he says with a quiet sincerity she never used to hear from him before the island.

"It's good to see you too, Ollie," she replies.

"Are you OK being here?" he asks, forehead crinkled in worry.

"Really, it's fine," she assures. "At least the bartender knows not to serve me anything harder than water." She holds up her glass and smiles and Oliver smiles back. He opens his mouth to say something and is just about to speak when another voice chimes in.

"Hello, Laurel," a feminine voice says and she turns to find Oliver's assistant standing there.

"Hello," she says icily because this girl always seems to be interrupting.

"Um, Oliver, can I speak to you a moment?" she asks, looking at him in a meaningful way that he seems to immediately understand.

"Will you excuse me?" he says to Laurel and she nods her approval. He squeezes her shoulder before he turns to go and then follows the girl (whose name Laurel can never seem to remember) to the other end of the bar so they can talk.

She stares after them as they go and realizes she doesn't even understand why the girl is even here. Laurel knows she works at QC, but she doesn't know why her assistant duties would apply here too. She turns to ask Sara about it when she finds her sister staring at the pair rather intently.

"Does that ever bother you?" she asks.

"What?" Sara counters, looking confused.

"How close Oliver is to that girl," she replies and points a thumb in their direction. "You and I know better than most how his eye can wander."

"Felicity?" Sara asks somewhat incredulously. She looks over to where the pair in question are talking–Oliver with his hand on her shoulder and Felicity looking up at him in that adoring way Laurel's seen on many a girl's face. "No," Sara says firmly after contemplating them a moment. "I'm actually glad he has her."

"Why?" Laurel asks, surprised. Sara looks at her a moment, as if deciding something, before she speaks.

"Because Oliver's not the same guy he was before we left on the Queen's Gambit," she says a little sadly. "He's not the same Oliver who would walk into a party and be friends with everyone ten minutes later. He's not as good about letting people in. But she's managed to break through somehow and she's been a good friend to him since he came back. Sometimes I wonder if he'd be as good as he is without her," she adds, more to herself than to Laurel.

She's just about to ask what Sara means by that when she sees her send a questioning look in Oliver's direction. She turns and finds him looking determined. He shakes his head imperceptibly at Sara before turning to follow Felicity, to where, she doesn't know because the dancing crowd quickly blocks them out.

Laurel turns back to find Sara staring contemplatively at the drink she's mixing and she can't help but wonder if maybe her sister hasn't lost her affinity for getting into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and you know, I'd really appreciate if you left some feedback and fed the writing beast, as it were.


	21. Eye Candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from phoenixmar on Tumblr: With the addition of Roy & Sara, the Arrow Cave starts looking/smelling like a locker room at the Y. Put upon!Felicity didn't sign up to be Team Arrow's towel girl. Pre-Olicity UST, Delicity BrOTP.

"OK, that's it!" Felicity yells, going full Loud Voice. Oliver and Diggle stop sparring for a moment and turn to find her angrily jabbing her finger into the flesh of Roy's bare chest. Diggle almost laughs at how terrified he and Sara look.

"It is bad enough that I have to just sit here and watch you guys parade around half-naked all the time," she says angrily. "Like this is some kind of twisted candy store where I'm not allowed to purchase anything instead of the base of operations for a bunch of vigilantes." She pauses to pick up the sweat-drenched towel that Roy hung on one of her servers. "But you _will_ respect the tech. This is not a gym and I am not your mother. So clean up after yourselves or so help me."

"OK," Roy mutters, sounding dazed. He glances down at where Felicity is still pressing her finger into his chest and she suddenly grows timid. She starts to pull her hand away and then seems to change her mind, biting her lip and then spreading her fingers out over Roy's chest before quickly running her hand down it.

"As you were," she says when she pulls her hand away, raising her chin in defiance of his startled expression. Oliver frowns in annoyance and steps toward them.

"Roy, grab a bow," he says, "you should be focusing on target practice anyway."

"Oh come on," the boy whines. "What's the point? I'm terrible at it."

"Won't get better if you don't practice," Sara says and claps him on the shoulder.

The three of them walk toward the targets, but Diggle goes to Felicity's desk, where she is now staring very intently at her screens.

"A candy store, huh?" he asks and leans against her desk.

"Not a word, John Diggle," she warns without looking up, but he can tell she's fighting not to smile.

"I'll make sure they clean up from now on," he says sincerely. "Just promise you won't feel me up during any angry outbursts," he adds and turns to go, but he's stopped by the sound of Felicity's voice.

"I make no promises," she says. "Have you seen your arms?"


	22. Interruption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt by everylastline on Tumblr: First time Digg walks in on them in the lair ;)

At first, Felicity thinks they've gotten away with it. She had quickly pushed Oliver off her when they heard the beep of the door and he had managed to refasten his pants while she had managed to find her underwear (though not put them back on) before the door had opened.

"Lyla wasn't able to find much," Diggle says as he walks down the stairs, seemingly oblivious as to why Oliver is walking so quickly toward the training mats and why Felicity is so focused on the buttons of her shirt. "But it's something. I talked to Roy and Sara, they should be here in..." he goes quiet and stops abruptly next to her desk. She wonders why when she hears him breathe a long sigh.

"OK, too many people have access to that door for you two to do that in here," Diggle says in annoyance.

"Do what?" Felicity asks, trying to sound as innocent as possible and refusing to look up at him.

"You're joking, right?" Diggle says wryly. "He's wearing more of your lipstick than you are," he adds and points at Oliver. Felicity turns to look at him and she would laugh if she weren't so mortified by what she sees.

Oliver is positively  _covered_  in pink smudges; on his lips, on his neck, in a rather incriminating trail that runs the length of his torso. He looks down at himself and when he looks up again, he smiles smugly at Diggle and shrugs. Felicity at least has the decency to look contrite.

"It won't happen again," she mutters and hunches her shoulders in shame.

"I expected better from you," Diggle says and shakes his head at her in disappointment.


	23. Headaches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from befitandchase (chasethewind on here and a master of smut) from Tumblr:Olicity+headaches.
> 
> Oh God, I'm so sorry. I don't know how this happened.

Oliver thought they were just good old-fashioned headaches.

Felicity got them occasionally. Tension headaches born from a combination of squinting at computer screens all day and a lack of sleep. On those days, he would sit behind her on their bed–her laying back against his chest between the spread of his legs–and soothe the hurt with his hands. Kneading out the knots in her shoulders with the heel of his hand, or tangling his fingers in her hair as he rubbed her scalp.

They chalked up the nausea and mood swings to the baby. The headaches were still there, but when they went to her doctor, he suggested taking it easy. Oliver was not-so-secretly happy that Felicity would no longer have reason to protest when he tried to send her home instead of staying up late tending to Arrow business.

It's not until after Violet is born that they realize something is wrong. They both assume Felicity's recent forgetfulness is due to the fact that neither of them is sleeping much, but when she has a full-on seizure one morning–nearly dropping the baby–Oliver insists they go to the doctor.

When he calls them into his office to tell them the results of the MRI, he expects he'll tell her to slow down just like Oliver's been saying, that it's nothing serious. How could it be? She's young and perfect. But then the doctor starts using words like "tumor" and "inoperable" and "terminal" and Oliver can feel his whole world slipping away. He stands there, stunned, unable to fathom a life without Felicity. It's the sight of her shaking that snaps him out of it. He takes her face in both his hands and looks into her her eyes.

"We will get a second opinion," he says firmly. "I won't lose you." She smiles bravely and places a hand over one of his.

But when a third doctor tells them Felicity should get her affairs in order, she's the one who has to grab him by the face and make him listen.

"Oliver, we need to be realistic," she says, her voice so calm and practical that Oliver thinks he might scream. He shuts his eyes and drops his forehead to hers.

"I can't live without you," he says and doesn't recognize his voice for how desperate it sounds.

"You'll have to try," she says. "Violet...I won't...," Felicity starts before her sobbing overtakes her. He pulls her against him, as much to comfort her as himself. He vows then to be strong for her, to give her everything she needs for the rest of the time that he'll have her.

He gives up running QC and stops being the Arrow. His mother is a better CEO anyway and Diggle, Sara and Roy can carry on without him. Felicity encourages him to keep doing both, saying that it's important for him to keep living, but he refuses. Neither job is as important to him as spending as much time with her and Violet as possible. And if he's being honest, doing either without her is impossible.

So he stays by her side for months on end, watching the woman he loves deteriorate until everything he loves about her is stripped away. Like watching a fire slowly die. And when her light is finally snuffed out, only days after Violet's first birthday, he doesn't feel relief that her pain is over like he thought he would. He feels empty and so, so angry.

Her funeral only makes him angrier. He sits there, cradling his daughter in his arms, listening to the eulogies and all he can think about is how unfair it is. Felicity was good. She deserved to see her daughter grow up. After all the years they've spent saving Starling City, didn't fate at least owe them that? Hasn't his life been hard enough?

When they return to the Queen mansion that night, he hands Violet to Thea and grabs Roy by the arm, dragging him toward the door.

"Where are you going?" his sister asks, sounding frightened. He doesn't bother to answer.

Roy doesn't ask and he doesn't seem surprised when Oliver pulls into Verdant. It's been a long time since he donned the hood and he finds it's a little loose on him. He hasn't been eating much, let alone exercising.

The younger man doesn't say anything, doesn't question why Oliver wants to do this. Not until they're both suited up and Oliver picks up his bow for the first time in what feels like years does he say anything.

"Are you sure about this?" Roy asks. "Felicity–"

"Don't," Oliver says sharply and points a warning finger at him. For once, he's smart enough not to argue.

They're patrolling the streets much longer than Oliver expects. So, when they finally stumble upon a mugger making off with a woman's purse, Oliver is even more agitated than when they started.

It only takes a single arrow to get the man's attention–the purse flies out of his hands and becomes embedded in a brick wall–but Oliver isn't content to just let him go and return the stolen item to its owner. Instead, he jumps down and strides toward the man. He takes out a knife, but Oliver quickly disarms him and the next thing he knows, he's knocking the man to the ground and beating him.

"Oliver stop!" Roy yells and tries to pull him back, but he pushes him away. It takes Roy physically picking him up and throwing him to snap Oliver out of his rage and by then the mugger is sprawled unconscious on the ground. He moves toward them when Roy holds out a hand.

"No," he says firmly. "Go home, Oliver," he adds, his tone threatening. He hangs his head in shame and flees without another word.

Before he returns to the mansion, he goes to Verdant to remove his uniform, forcing himself not to look at Felicity's desk. The house is quiet when he returns and he rushes straight to their room. But he's ready to leave it again the moment the door shuts behind him. Because it smells like her: her perfume, her hair, her skin. All he can feel is her absence and the sensation that everything about her will start to fade no matter how hard he tries to remember every detail. The thought nauseates him.

Oliver storms out of the room, going he doesn't know where, and he might have left and never come back if Violet hadn't made a small sound as he passed her room. He approaches the closed door and presses his ear to it, hearing only silence on the other side. He enters the moonlit room without a sound and softly closes the door behind him. He can't help but smile as he approaches the crib, thinking of all the times he and Felicity used to just watch her sleep, holding each other in comfortable silence.

His heart aches knowing they'll never do that again. Yet as Oliver stares at their daughter, the only piece of Felicity he has left, he remembers her final words to him.

"I love you. Take care of her," she had said in one final moment of clarity. He picks up his sleeping daughter and grips her to his chest.

"I will," he whispers through tears.


	24. First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In penance for the angst bomb I dropped in the previous chapter, I promise this drabble is pure fluff.
> 
> Inspired by the following prompts from Tumblr: dondesoliamosgritar requested: "Olicity prompt: their first date! :)" and everylastline requested: "First time they go on an actual date outside of work and the lair.”

Felicity says it in passing–a joke about not remembering the last time she didn’t spend the night dealing with QC or Arrow business–but Oliver thinks of little else for days after. How could he have failed to take her on a single date?

It probably had something to do with the fact that they had officially become more than partners when they fell into bed together. He had spent every night since in her bed and she certainly hadn’t complained. But he didn’t want to treat Felicity like just another girl. Because she was the girl.

So, a few days later when they’re leaving work, he tells her they won’t be going to Verdant that night.

"Why not?" she asks and furrows her brow. "I don’t remember you having any business dinners on your schedule," she adds and checks his calendar on her phone.

"It’s nothing like that," he replies. "I’m taking you to dinner."

"Why?" she says and tilts her head in confusion.

"Because I like to take my girlfriend on a date every once in awhile."

"Oh," she says in surprise and then blushes. "Oh."

"I’ll pick you up from your apartment at 7. Wear something cute."

"Ew, don’t say things like that ever, first off, but especially not at work. Feels too boss-sleeping-with-the-secretary."

"Alright," Oliver says with a laugh, "but dress cute," he repeats with a wink and Felicity laughs despite herself.

She does, indeed, look cute when he picks her up (a little purple number he really needs to see more often), though he doubts a single day of her life has passed where Felicity  _hasn’t_  been cute.

"Hey," he says as she walks down her steps and he spreads his arms wide so she can walk into them.

"Hi," she replies and presses herself against him before leaning up and kissing him softly. "So where are we going?" she asks when they finally separate.

"You’ll see," he demurs and opens the car door for her. He leans in and grabs a mixed bouquet with violets in it that just happen to complement her dress. "For you," he says and holds them out proudly.

"Oh, Oliver, they’re beautiful," she coos and then closes her eyes as she breathes in their scent.

They don’t have to drive too far and Oliver is lucky enough to find a parking space right in front.

"I’ll need popcorn if we’re seeing a movie first" Felicity says as he helps her out of the car. "I assumed we were going straight to dinner and I’m starving."

"I’ve got it covered," he assures. "They have a full dinner menu and bar and the ushers serve everything at your seats."

"Fancy," she replies, clearly impressed.

Oliver bought their tickets beforehand just in case the movie sold out and they bypass the ticket line. An usher leads them to their seats and explains that they order by writing what they want on slips of paper that sit piled in little slots at each table.

"So how did you find this place?" Felicity asks absently as she peruses the menu.

"I did a Google search for good first date places in Starling City" Oliver replies and she turns to him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Without me?" she says and pretends to be aghast. "How did you manage?" she adds and elbows him playfully.

"Ha-ha," he says drily.

"What are we seeing, by the way?" she asks and turns back to the menu. Her face falls in disappointment when he says the title.

"But that’s a sequel and I haven’t seen the first one," she says with a pout.

"What?" he says and checks the movie title on his ticket. "But there’s not a number at the end?" he says in confusion.

"Oh, sweetie," she says and places a hand on his leg. "That’s not really the convention anymore. Now it’s anything with punctuation, like a colon or a dash."

"Damn," he says and looks deflated. "I’m sorry. I just chose the movie that had the best reviews. I don’t think the other movies start for at least another hour."

"It’s OK," she says and kisses his cheek. "I read the book before I met you, when I still had time to read. But you’re going to have no idea what’s going on." He frowns a second and then gets an idea when he sees the little slips of paper.

"How about whenever I have a question, I write it down on one of these?" he says and holds one up.

"A brilliant solution, Mr. Queen," she says and kisses his cheek again.

"And they said I wasn’t fit to be a CEO," he says with a charming shrug.

Oliver spends the first few minutes of the movie trading notes back and forth with Felicity, but he doesn’t stop once he has a handle on the plot.

 _So you think I’ll get lucky tonight?_  he writes. _I really like this girl, but I don’t know her policies on first dates._  Felicity smiles when she reads it and quickly writes a response.

 _She might make an exception…_  it reads.

The notes they write each other throughout the rest of the movie have nothing to do with its plot.


	25. Dates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from love-valdaya-and-captainswan on Tumblr: Can it also be smoaking canarrow? where Oliver shows up with both the girls at a gala, like a three way date, and also takes both home at the end of the evening :) (or they can't wait to get home and smthing (smut?) happens between them at the gala)
> 
> The only reason there isn’t full-on smut in this one is because I’m saving that for the next Smoaking Canarrow drabble. This is a continuation of the universe I set up in Friendly Competition.

In retrospect, Oliver should have known Felicity wouldn’t like the idea.

Much as she has fully embraced and, really, orchestrated this relationship amongst herself, Oliver and Sara, she’s been somewhat wary of making their admittedly scandalous arrangement public. But since she had freely and proudly admitted it to Diggle (who raised an eyebrow, but mostly seemed unsurprised) and Roy (who raised both eyebrows and dropped his jaw in shock) the other day, Oliver thought a public début wouldn’t be a problem.

In retrospect, he should have approached the subject earlier than five minutes before they left for the party.

_"Are my dates almost ready?" he had asked, popping his head into the bathroom in hopes of spurring them (OK, Felicity) on because they were already running late._

_"Your_ dates _?” Felicity had repeated drily, the corner of her mouth upturned in distaste._

_"Yes?" Oliver had answered already knowing something was about to go horribly wrong but powerless to stop it._

Felicity had been decidedly icy since.

She sat in sullen silence throughout the car ride to the Starling City Museum of Art and Oliver could feel the anger radiating off her despite the barrier Sara provided—who sat between them after Felicity’s urging. Things didn’t improve much when they reached the fundraiser.

Oliver offered her his arm to walk her down the stairs leading into the main hall, but she narrowed her eyes at him and took Diggle’s arm instead. Sara smiled at him in pity and looped her arm around his. He had spent the night unsuccessfully trying to get back on her good side–bringing her drinks, trying to strike up conversation–but to no avail.

"You know how she is," Sara says after Felicity simply walks away rather than speak to him for maybe the fifth time this evening. "She just needs some time to cool down."

"How long do you think that’ll take?" Oliver asks with a frown.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Sara says with a shrug. "Remember last time?"

"Oof," he grunts and cringes, remembering the aftermath of the last fight she and Sara had gotten into. "I’ll do anything to avoid that," he mutters and downs the remainder of his drink before chasing Felicity down.

"Care to dance, Ms. Smoak?" he says and pulls her into hold before she can protest.

"Not really," she says with a scowl and tries to turn away. Oliver doesn’t let her budge.

"Felicity, please," he says sincerely. "Why are you angry? I thought you were happy with what the three of us have." Instead of trying to leave again, she sighs and her shoulders slump as some of her anger dissipates.

"Of course I’m happy," she says softly. "I love you both," she adds and squeezes his hand.

"Then why wouldn’t you come as my date?"

"Because it’s not that simple, Oliver," she replies, the angry edge returning. "You are the CEO of a company whose financial position is tenuous at best thanks to how unreliable you are. The board and the public don’t know it’s for a good reason. What do you think openly dating two women is going to do for your image?"

"You’re joking," he says with a smirk. "I’m Oliver Queen. That’s exactly the kind of thing people expect of me."

"Uh-huh," she says coolly. "So Sara and I are just supposed to be content to be your little set of blonde arm candy?"

"Hey, come on, you know you both mean a hell of a lot more to me than that," he argues, fighting to keep his voice down.

"That’s how everybody is gonna interpret it though," she counters, not bothering to control her volume and drawing a few indignant glances. "Half of QC, not to mention your mother, already thinks I slept my way into my job. As if I worked my ass off at MIT so I could become a glorified secretary. I wouldn’t be able to walk around the office for all the spite."

"Stop, don’t be ridiculous," he says in a harsh whisper. "Everybody knows how qualified you are."

"Oh, I’m being ridiculous?" she says sarcastically, now garnering full-on stares.

"No, that’s not–" he starts but she holds up her hand to silence him.

"Nope. I’m done dancing now." Felicity storms off with a huff and Oliver can only stare after her longingly.

"I’ll talk to her," Sara says from beside him after a few moments and squeezes his arm in sympathy.

"Thanks," he says dejectedly and watches her go. He wants to watch their conversation even if he can’t hear it–just to gauge Felicity’s mood–but he’s quickly distracted by the head of Saverin Industries.

The man begs, yet again, for an investment from Queen Consolidated and by the time he finishes his usual, long-winded spiel, Felicity and Sara are no longer standing where he last saw them by the bar. Oliver scans the room for any sign of them and comes up wanting.

"Hey, have you seen Felicity and Sara?" he asks Diggle.

"Think they went off in the direction of the powder room," he replies and Oliver doesn’t understand why he says it with a smirk.

He quickly gets the picture though. He’s just approaching the ladies’ room door when Felicity comes flying through it looking a little flushed, her hair a little loose and falling out of place. She chews her bottom lip nervously when she sees him, but brushes past before Oliver can say anything. Sara appears then, looking slightly smug.

"Is she alright?" he says under his breath and wraps an arm around her waist.

"Oh yeah," she says casually, but when she leans up and presses her lips to his, he knows _exactly_ what they’ve been doing.

"Were you two…?" he starts, his voice low at the thought of them having fun without him.

"You know it calms her down," Sara replies with a sly smile.


	26. A Marriage of Competition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from an anon on Tumblr: "Smoaking Canarrow marital bliss, maybe some smut if you don't mind."
> 
> There is indeed much smut. I’ll warn you now, it is probably the filthiest thing I’ve ever written. I hope you guys enjoy it because I am officially retiring from Smoaking Canarrow smut and maybe that ship in general. It’s just too much work. Too many personalities and character dynamics and body parts to keep track of. I’m exhausted.
> 
> Again, this is from the same universe as Friendly Competition, and the drabbles that make up chapters 14 and 25 of this collection.

When Oliver imagined Felicity walking down the aisle toward him in a wedding dress, he'd always pictured himself as the groom. Instead, it's Sara Lance. He's just her Best Man. Though that may not be exactly the right term. He doubts many Best Men are also sleeping with both brides.

Truth is, if the law wasn't what it is, Felicity would be marrying him too. But they break enough laws on a daily basis so she was forced to choose just one.  
  
They had both proposed. As so much of their relationship with Felicity had been from the beginning, he and Sara had viewed the whole thing as a competition. They had tossed a coin to see who would go first–thereby having the advantage of being the one to clue Felicity in on their intentions and create that first impression–and Sara could barely contain her elation when she won.

Disappointed as he was, Oliver eventually realized he could work the situation to his advantage. He watched and even paid for some of Sara's plans and structured his proposal to be everything hers wasn't. Intimate where hers was showy, simple where hers was extravagant.

But in the end, the proposals themselves didn't matter. When it came down to it, Felicity chose based on the person and in this case, that person wasn't Oliver.

_"You know it's not because I love Sara more or anything like that right?" she had asked him softly as she sat in his lap, straddling him."I love you both equally."_

_"I know," he had replied, unable to hide his disappointment._

_"It's just that gay marriage has been such a hard-won right and I think it's important for people to see those kinds of relationships."_

_"I understand."_

_"Hey," she had said and run her hands through his hair so he was forced to look at her. "I still want you to be just as much a part of our relationship as you are now. This doesn't change anything between us, Oliver."_

_Felicity had kissed him then and spent the rest of the night in his bed in the Queen mansion proving her words. One of those rare nights when it was just the two of them. He liked those._

But he suspects he'll never have one again. Oliver has always felt like a bit of a third wheel when it came to Felicity and Sara, given the way it all started. Helping them plan their wedding and especially watching the actual event today had made him feel even more superfluous. He's wondered more than once if push came to shove if they would choose each other over him. It's not a comforting thought given where he's headed.

The plan had always been that after the reception, the happy couple would make their way to the honeymoon suite and Oliver would join them a little later, waiting just long enough to keep people from asking questions. Yet as Oliver walks down the hall toward the room–his hands fiddling with the room key nervously–he feels like he's doing something wrong. Like he's about to intrude somewhere he doesn't really belong.

He pauses when he reaches the door (different from the one he spent the previous night in with Sara on Felicity's request) and takes a deep breath before he puts the key card in the slot.

"There you are!" a barefoot Felicity yells excitedly the moment he opens the door. She runs toward him and Oliver barely has time to brace himself before she jumps on him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Hi," she says, low and sexy and then leans in to kiss him.

"Hi," he replies when she stops. "You should greet me that way every time I walk into a room."

"Nope, this is about fairness," she says as he repositions her. "Sara already carried me across the threshold. Now it's your turn."

"Really?" he says and raises his eyebrows at Sara as he steps through the door, kicking it closed behind them.

"Yeah, and I had about as much choice in the matter as you did," she says and looks at Felicity affectionately.

"Somehow I'm not surprised," he says as he sets her down next to Sara. Felicity lightly socks him in the shoulder and Sara hands him a glass of champagne.

"We started without you," she explains and raises her nearly empty glass to him. He clinks them together and then turns to Felicity to do the same.

"Cheers," she says and taps his glass. "Here," she adds, handing him a small jewelry box, "we have a surprise for you." Oliver takes the box and looks at Sara questioningly. She smiles in encouragement and Oliver flips open the lid to find a ring inside: a simple silver band with three stones clustered in the middle.

"We wanted to get you one that matched ours," Sara says and steps toward him. "Just because you can't legally be part of this marriage doesn't mean you aren't an equal member." She takes the ring out of the box and Felicity snatches the drink out of his hand so Sara can slide it on his finger.

"Thank you," he says softly and leans down to kiss her.

"Hey, I designed it ," Felicity interjects, "don't I get a kiss?" Sara rolls her eyes playfully and Oliver laughs as he leans over to grant her request. "Mmm," she sighs and then drops back onto her heels. She sips her champagne as she walks past the table and into the bedroom and Oliver and Sara instinctively follow.

"By my estimate, we have about 18 hours before we have to leave this room if we want to get to the airport on time," she says over her shoulder, setting down her glass and then reaching up a hand to start undoing her hair as she walks. She stops at the foot of the bed and then turns to look at them, a sly smile on her face. "So, Public Wife, Secret Husband," she starts, looking at each of them in turn, "which one of you is going to help me out of this dress?"

"Me," Sara and Oliver both say, but she says it half a second quicker. Typical for this relationship. She smiles smugly as she sets down her glass and then steps toward Felicity.

"Hey beautiful," she says when she reaches her.

"Hey yourself," Felicity says back.

Sara drops her hand and drags her fingertips over the folds of Felicity's dress as she walks around her. She stops when she's standing behind her and runs her hands up Felicity's arms. She pulls her back against her by the shoulders and presses her lips softly against her neck. Felicity drops her head back onto her shoulder and shuts her eyes as Sara kisses down her neck. Oliver hears the zipper on the back of the dress and then has the pleasure of watching it fall to the floor around her, leaving Felicity in just her panties. Sara wraps her arms around her body, one grabbing one of Felicity's breasts and another dipping beneath the fabric of her panties. When Oliver sets his glass down a little harder than he means, Felicity's eyes snap open.

"Uh-oh," she says and smiles mischievously, "looks like someone's jealous," she adds and places a hand on Sara's face to make her look up. "Maybe you should help him get undressed too." Sara laughs under her breath and then lets go of Felicity, stepping around her so she can walk toward him.

Oliver is briefly distracted from her by the sight of Felicity removing the rest of her clothing and laying back on the bed, but then Sara is grabbing him by the lapels and pulling him in for a kiss. He grabs her by the hips and pulls her against him, smiling to himself at her gasp of surprise. They don't separate as she slides his jacket down his arms or when she starts to undo his belt. They only separate when he starts to undress her.

Sara had very happily given up her right to wear a dress so as not to outshine Felicity; she hadn't liked wearing them much since she had returned to Starling. So, Oliver slips off the jacket she's wearing, takes a moment to stare at the Canary-esque bustier she has on beneath and then starts to unbutton his own shirt. Sara does the same with her pants.

"This is good," Felicity says from the bed, waving a hand at them. "I like this."

Sara laughs and shakes her head and lets her pants and underwear fall to the floor. Oliver's quickly follow  
and then he pulls her toward him because she's struggling to remove the bustier herself. After he finally unties the infernal knots, he pulls her back against him and kisses her neck the same way she kissed Felicity's a moment before.

"Hi, hello," Felicity pipes up, drawing their attention. "I'm over here." This time it's Oliver's turn to shake his head and laugh. He grabs Sara's hand and lead her to the bed and Felicity pushes back away from them so they have chase after her.

For once, Oliver reaches her first. He takes Felicity's face in his hands and kisses her like he's wanted to all day. He's too distracted to resist when she pushes him to lay back on the bed. Unfortunately, she stops kissing him the moment his head hits the pillow and when he tries to sit up and follow her again, she places a hand on his chest.

He looks at her questioningly, but she doesn't say anything. And neither does Sara. Instead, they both move down the bed until they're kneeling on either side of his waist. Sara looks over at Felicity and when she smiles back, not for the first time, Oliver wonders if they've talked about this beforehand. He's only caught them talking about him once–and that wasn't exactly fun considering they were basically laughing about how bad he used to be in bed–but surely they must spend some amount of time thinking up the best ways to torture him. He doesn't understand what they could possibly have planned until they each wrap a hand around his cock and begin to stroke him.

Sara is the first to put her mouth on him once he's hard, slowly dragging her tongue up his length the way they know drives him insane. She doesn't take him into her mouth when she reaches the tip, instead leaning back so Felicity can repeat the motion.

"Fuck," Oliver mutters and fists his hands in the covers.

They alternate like that for awhile, eventually taking him into their mouths by turns until he's on the point of throwing them onto the bed and fucking them senseless one at a time, but then they both stop. He looks down at them and before he can ask what they're doing, they place their tongues at the base his cock and slowly lick up either side. It's easily the hottest thing he's ever experienced. But that ecstasy is short-lived because they both become more interested in each other when they reach the tip. It's also a nice view, but Oliver has spent too much of today letting Sara have Felicity to herself.

So, he sits up and watches them a moment before placing a hand on each, his left slipping between Felicity's legs and his right wrapping around one of Sara's breasts. They both turn from each other to look at him and while they both move to kiss him, Felicity reaches him first. Sara doesn't sit idle though. Focused as he is on Felicity, he can't miss the way Sara's hand slides up his leg, coming maddeningly close to his cock. Before he can reach out and place her hand where he wants it though, Felicity is pulling away and urging her to kiss him instead. He wonders for a moment what she could be doing when he suddenly gets a very clear picture as she starts to stroke him with her hand. He grunts against Sara's mouth and reaches out blindly to touch Felicity, his palm landing on her thigh. Oliver tries to pull her closer, so he can touch her too, but she moves before he can.

"Sara," he hears her say. His eyes snap open when she stops kissing him and he finds Felicity pulling her toward herself. She repositions Sara so she's straddling Oliver's hips and then pushes her down, guiding his cock into her. He throws his head back with a groan as she slides down his length and looks back at her when she's sitting in his lap. She grinds against him as she gives him one of those sexy, pouty smiles that always makes him want to bite her lip.

And he would, except Felicity beats him to it. Oliver is disappointed for a moment, but then Sara moves and Felicity moves with her and he decides this is better. He watches them a few moments, making out and moving in unison, as if they're both riding him, and he suddenly thinks that's not such a bad idea. When he slips his hand between Felicity's legs this time, she spreads them wider. She moans against Sara's mouth as he slips his fingers inside her, but Oliver doesn't quite like the angle.

"Felicity," he pants, pulling her toward him. She turns from Sara to look at him as he lays back on the bed and smiles when she realizes what he wants. She throws a leg over his body, so she's still facing Sara, and then Oliver pulls her back toward him so he can press his mouth to her.

He feels Sara and Felicity lean toward each other over his body, their fingers lacing together on top of his stomach, and he can't help but feel a little smug. Both women writhing on top of him as he pleasures them, only a few short hours after they married each other–he thinks he's got a right to be proud.

The feeling only intensifies when they start to moan louder, both moving faster against him. Oliver reaches a hand up to rub Felicity's clit and he assumes she does the same to Sara when he feels her fingers move across his stomach. And then they're both clenching around him and the feeling and the knowledge that he's responsible almost make him come too, but before he can, Sara's legs stop shaking enough for her to move off of him. He groans in disappointment until he feels Felicity lean forward and take him into her mouth. His hands tighten around her thighs, but she moves off of him anyway because she knows he likes to watch. But he doesn't get to for very long because when Sara falls back onto the bed next to him, she grabs his face to kiss him. She has always enjoyed tasting Felicity on his lips.

Oliver is distracted again though when Felicity brings her hands into the mix, one cupping him and the other stroking his length as her lips wrap tightly around his tip. She's giving him permission to come in her mouth and when he does, his whole body tenses in ecstasy.

Sara pulls Felicity on top of them once she sits up again. She kisses her, slipping her tongue into her mouth just as she did to Oliver before, probably for the same reason. He drops an arm on top of Felicity as he watches them, squeezing her ass, and she turns to look at him. She leans over to kiss him too and he can still taste himself on her. It used to freak him out, but he accepted it long ago as an inevitable part of this relationship. A small price to pay for the privilege of fucking two women.

Felicity heaves a contented sigh when she pulls away and then repositions herself so she's half on him and half on Sara. Oliver reaches out to place a hand in her hair, but he can't quite reach because Sara is using that arm as a pillow. He lifts the other instead and Felicity gasps, grabbing his fingers.

"We forgot to tell you about the inscription," she says as she slides the wedding ring off his hand.

"Oh shit," Sara says and slaps a hand over her face.

"It's our initials," Felicity continues and turns the ring so he can see the script on the inside.

"O.F.S. huh?" Oliver asks with a smirk. "You in the middle."

"Uh-huh," she nods and slips the ring back on. "Seemed fitting," she adds and then squirms around, pushing him aside until she's snuggled between him and Sara.

* * *

They wake late the next morning. Rare are the days they get to lounge in bed with nowhere to go. So, when Oliver wakes up, he keeps his eyes closed, preferring to revel in how nice it feels to lay naked in bed with them.

Felicity has her back to him, her body pressed fully into the contours of his. He likes that: the somewhat protective, possessive sensation of spooning her. He leans forward and buries his face further into her hair, breathing deep so he can savor the faint scents of the soap they used in the shower last night, of her, of Sara and even of himself. He tightens his arm around her and realizes that the flesh under his hand belongs to Sara, not Felicity. Similar as they are in height, he's come to know the differences between their bodies very well. Sara is slightly fuller, more muscled. He runs his fingers lightly up and down her side and she sighs contentedly, her hand rubbing his shoulder. He finally opens his eyes and looks over Felicity to find Sara smiling sleepily at him, her head propped up on her hand.

"Hey," she says, her voice a little rough with sleep.

"Morning," he replies, voice deeper but equally rough. "She awake?" he asks and leans up a bit to look at Felicity's face.

"Not yet," Sara says affectionately and moves the hand not on Oliver to brush Felicity's hair out of her face. The light peeking through the drapes glints on her wedding ring and he can't help wishing that his had the same meaning.

"Oliver, stop," Sara says softly, drawing his attention. "We told you, you are just as much a part of this marriage as either of us. Our rings are just official."

"I know," he says, equally soft as he slides his hand up her side until he's cupping her face. "I just wanted to marry her," he says sadly and then adds, "or you."

Oliver doesn't realize how true the words are until he says them and after, he's struck by how long it's taken him to realize it. While he and Sara have been competing for Felicity's attention ever since that first time in the foundry, it's never really been just about winning her, but about the two of them. He suddenly understands why Felicity has always pushed them to be closer, tried to make them understand their love for her is just as much an expression of their love for each other. And he really does love them both, equally and for different reasons.

He loves that he and Sara have so much history, that they're together now despite the pain of their past. She understands him in a way nobody else can because she knows what it's like to have violence becomes so much a part of yourself that you wonder what's left. It's why they make such a good team when they're fighting together. He couldn't be the Arrow without her.

But he also couldn't be the Arrow without Felicity. He loves her because they have no history at all except the one they've built together since he came back to Starling City. He likes that she makes him feel like everything that happened before the moment he brought her a bullet-ridden laptop doesn't matter. That there is something more than violence left inside him. She makes him happier, better, just by being.

He suspects it's why Sara loves her as well.

"Me too," Sara says, unconsciously agreeing with him and Oliver wonders how long she's known what he's just realized.

He pushes himself up onto his elbow and leans across Felicity and she follows suit until they're close enough to kiss. And as good as it feels to kiss her, something feels off about it. Something he can't identify until he feels Felicity's hand on the side of his face and everything suddenly feels perfect.

"That's a nice view to wake up to," she mutters sleepily and he and Sara turn toward her. She runs her fingers through their hair, a hand on each of them, and they both return the smile she's giving them.

And in that moment, Oliver realizes he has nothing to worry about. Sara and Felicity love him just as much as they love each other. And he feels the same.


	27. Crutches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from an Anon on Tumblr: "felicity broke her leg somehow and oliver comes over to her house for the first time to take care of her/help her out."

Anytime Felicity leaves Verdant to follow him into the field, Oliver has one goal. One he considers even more important than whatever they're doing: keep her safe. She can't take care of herself the same way Diggle or Sara can. The training she's been doing with them has eased his mind, but she's still in need of backup. Something tonight's events made abundantly clear.

_He took his eyes off her for one second to deal with the guards coming after them and the next thing he knew she was screaming. He turned to find her curled on the ground clutching her leg, a guard standing over her with a gun trained at her head. As often happened when Felicity was in danger, Oliver acted before he really had time to think. The guard dropped his gun after the first arrow hit and he barely had time to turn and look at the hooded figure approaching him before he was knocked to the ground, unconscious._

_"Are you OK?" Oliver had asked and knelt next to her._

_"I think it's broken," she had ground out, the way she was grimacing and shaking suggesting she was probably right._

_"Diggle, Sara, meet us at the car, Felicity's hurt," he'd said into their comms. He picked Felicity up as gently as possible and started to carry her away when she stopped him._

_"Wait, the drive," she had said and reached back toward the server._

_"Felicity," he had started, but she silenced him with a typical annoyed stare._

_"If I'm going to get a broken bone out of this, we are at least getting what we came her for." He had grumbled, but acquiesced._

_She had been similarly stubborn about going to the hospital, insisting he and Sara go back to Verdant and allow Diggle to take her. But Oliver had put his foot down when she had argued that she didn't need anyone to help her get around her house that night._

"Oliver, this really isn't necessary," she says as he opens her front door and steps to the side so she can maneuver herself inside with her crutches.

"Yes, it is, Felicity," he replies as he shuts the door behind her. "You've never had to get around on a broken leg before."

"How do you know?" she asks petulantly and flicks on a light that illuminates the foyer and the staircase leading to the second floor. "My life wasn't exactly boring before I joined Team Arrow."

"Have you broken a leg before?" he asks and folds his arms over his chest.

"No, but I could have," she argues. "I scraped my knee really hard once falling off a bike."

"Uh-huh," he replies skeptically. She rolls her eyes and tries to walk away but freezes when she comes to the foot of the stairs. Her whole body slumps in resignation as she looks toward the top and Oliver has to stifle a laugh. He sets down the overnight bag he keeps at Verdant and then walks up to her.

"Here," he says and reaches out to take her crutches. Felicity gives him a confused look, but hands them to him anyway, steadying herself on the banister and standing on one foot.

"I'm sorry to do this," he says after leaning the crutches against the wall," but the stairs are too narrow to do it any other way."

"Do what?" Felicity asks, but Oliver doesn't answer. Instead, he leans down and picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder.

"Oh my God, Oliver, what are you doing?" she says angrily.

"Helping you up the stairs," he replies.

"That was so embarrassing," she says when he sets her down at the top.

"Did you have a better idea?" he asks as he returns to the bottom of the stairs to grab her crutches and his things.

"No, but you should have asked first," she admits begrudgingly when he hands her the crutches.

"If I'd done that, we'd still be down there talking about it. Which door is your bedroom?"

"That one," she says, suddenly seeming awkward.

He follows her into the room and then helps her get ready for bed. Grabbing her pajamas out of a drawer so she doesn't have to walk over, running downstairs to get water for her pain medication, listening as she rambles awkwardly for 15 seconds after saying she might need help taking a shower and then decides she'll save that problem for tomorrow. He's just finished tucking her in when she places her hand on his.

"Oliver, you really don't have to stay here tonight," she says sincerely. "I'm sure getting down the stairs is going to be much easier than getting up them. I'll be fine."

"Felicity," he sighs, "I told you, I'm not leaving you alone tonight. It's the least I can do after letting this happen."

"What are you talking about?"

"I should have kept you in my sight," he says with a frown, as if it should be obvious. "I should have seen that guard coming."

"You can't be everywhere at once, Oliver," she says softly, squeezing his hand. "This isn't your fault."

"Of course it is," he says bitterly. "What I do, it puts you in danger everyday."

"No, I put _myself_ in danger everyday," she counters. "I choose to do this just like you or Sara or Diggle. I know the risks every time I leave Verdant and I accept them." She smiles at him encouragingly and sighs when he doesn't show any sign of agreeing. "Think of it this way, of all the things that could happen, a broken leg isn't so bad," she says, her voice getting that familiar playful quality. "It's a clean break thank goodness so all this means is a couple weeks of wearing a cast and you carrying me up to my bedroom every night." She blushes the moment the words leave her mouth and starts back-pedaling immediately. "I mean, not that you have to do that. I was just–"

"Deal," Oliver says with a smile and stands. "Now, where's this guest room you were talking about?"

"Across the hall," she says, still blushing. "There should be towels and extra blankets in the closet next to the bathroom."

"OK, just yell if you need me," he says and picks up his things. "I don't want you hurting yourself because you didn't want to ask for help."

"You're one to talk," she teases. He chuckles and shakes his head. He's almost out the door when she speaks up again.

"Oliver?" she says. He turns back and looks at her questioningly. "Thanks."

"Of course," he replies and flicks off the light.

"Goodnight," she says through the darkness.

"Goodnight," he replies as he closes the door, leaving it ajar so he'll be able to hear her.


	28. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't stop thinking about what it will be like when Oliver and Felicity finally figure it out, so I wrote this.

Felicity wakes with a start. It's been awhile since she woke up with someone in her bed and the feeling of a heavy arm wrapped around her waist, hand splayed across her stomach, is odd. But then she remembers that the arm belongs to Oliver and she pulls it tighter around her.

She turns onto her back, careful not to wake him up and marvels at how serene his features are in sleep. Flashes of the night before flood her memory. A mission that went sour, a love confession full of need and apology, their hands gripping each other desperately, his lips on hers—it all seemed rather impossible.

Yet the proof of it lay next to her, breathing deep and measured in sleep. She turns again so she's facing him fully, reaches out a hand and gently runs her fingers through his hair. His eyes flutter open and Felicity has the errant thought that he is just too damn pretty. Like, maybe prettier than her and that is just not OK because she's going to get a complex about it if this—

"Hey," Oliver says, his voice so deep and sexy that it effectively ends that train of thought and replaces it with another.

"Sorry," she says and pulls her hand back. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"OK," he sighs and pulls her against him, reminding Felicity that they are very, very naked.

But she can do something about that later. So, she snuggles into his chest and dozes for awhile longer, the contented smile on her face matched by his.


	29. Intruder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt for Olicity from an anon who took the idea from tickatocka’s Tumblr: “i really want an “i accidentally broke into your house/apartment because my friend lives next door to you and i was in the area, drunk, and i thought i was climbing into the right window and falling asleep on the right couch (and i did wonder when my friend got two cats but i didn’t question it) so now i’m hungover and shirtless in your living room so um hi howya doin” au”

Oliver wakes up to a woman screaming. He flies off the couch he was sleeping on and finds a petite blonde he doesn't know or remember in front of him. Which isn't exactly a first for him after a night of club hopping.

"Stay back!" she yells and raises her arm, ready to throw something at him. It might be more frightening if her weapon of choice weren't a pink, polka-dotted coffee mug–the contents of which she seems to have flung around the room during her outburst.

"Where's Tommy?" he asks and rubs his eyes groggily.

"There is no Tommy! Why are you in my house?!" the woman yells, her hysterical tone suggesting he's about to get a face full of coffee mug.

"Lady, calm down," Oliver mutters and puts up his hands in surrender. "I'm not gonna hurt you. My friend and I have a standing agreement that I can sleep it off at his place when I want to avoid my parents' lectures. Clearly, I broke into the wrong place. Tommy Merlyn doesn't live here?"

"No," she replies, annoyed. "Wait a minute, Tommy Merlyn," the girl says, dropping the hand holding the mug to her side as she thinks. After a moment, she smiles excitedly and points at him with the coffee mug, splashing its remaining contents in the air. "You mean, Cute Tommy, with the pretty blue eyes. He lives three doors down."

"Cute Tommy?" Oliver repeats, suddenly intrigued. "I don't think I've ever heard him called that." The girl blushes and he suddenly notices how pretty she is, her blonde hair tousled from sleep and a pair of glasses framing blue eyes that could rival his best friend's.

"Yeah, um, that's kind of my private nickname for him," she replies, cringing and glancing around the room as if she's looking for a way to escape.

"Private? As in...are you two...?" he suggests, surprised.

"No!" she yells and waves her hands. "No, no, no, no, he and I don't really know each other outside of that, like, polite acknowledgment thing you do with your neighbors when you see each other. No, I've been single since my last boyfriend decided he couldn't handle my late nights. Which probably aren't anything like the late night you appear to have just had. Usually I'm just working late writing code. But, anyway, he couldn't handle the idea that my job might be more important than him." She pauses a moment, seeming to notice the amused, somewhat perplexed smile on his face and then continues. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you that. Just forget everything I just said and also maybe don't mention to your friend that the weird girl down the street has a nickname for him."

"I think he'd be flattered, Miss..." he probes, intrigued after that adorable outburst.

"Smoak," she replies, slightly flustered. "Felicity. Felicity Smoak," she finishes, her hands moving in time with her words. "But let's keep it our secret anyway. You do kind of owe me for breaking into my house."

Now it's Oliver's turn to blush. "I'm really sorry about that," he says with a nervous laugh, scrubbing a hand through his hair and ducking his head in embarrassment. "I didn't mean to make you spill your coffee..." he pauses as he takes in her now-ruined pajamas but gets distracted when he notices how long her legs look in the tiny shorts, "everywhere," he finishes, his voice husky.

"It's OK," she says, shifting nervously under his gaze. "I'll just buy one on my way into work."

"How about you let me buy it for you?" he asks with a roguish grin.


	30. Video Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from turn-ordinary-extraordinary on Tumblr: Roy and Felicity friendship.

Roy Harper has always been good at video games. He never had his own console growing up, but he took every opportunity he could to play on his friends'.

Even so, he was always preternaturally good. And it's not often that he loses.

Yet he is currently getting his ass handed to him by one Felicity Smoak.

"Damn it," he yells and throws the controller across her living room floor.

"Hey!" she protests and picks it up. "Easy on the merchandise," she mutters under her breath as she inspects if for any damage.

"How are you so good at this already?" he yells. "The game came out yesterday! Did you work your crazy hacking magic or something?" he asks, pointing an accusing finger at the console.

"Of course not," she replies and rolls her eyes. "But it's a computer, of course I'm better at this than you. No need to get upset. Sit down so we can keep playing."

"No," he says firmly and throws his hands in the air. "No way. You're cheating somehow. I'm done," he finishes and stomps away.

"You're such a baby," Felicity yells after him.


	31. Domesticity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from an anon on Tumblr: "First day Oliver is staying at Felicity´s while trying to get his money back. The awkwardness of this first day and night and how greatful he is she is helping him."

Felicity will be the first to admit that this hasn't been as easy as she expected. She thought it might help her and Oliver move past any lingering awkwardness after the whole fake love confession thing, but it's been nothing but awkward since the moment he stepped foot in her house.

She had started by rambling at him in her foyer because seeing him standing there–bag in hand with no intention of leaving in the foreseeable future–stirred up some feelings. Then there was the moment a little later when she rounded the corner to her bathroom and stopped dead when she found Oliver just leaving it, wrapped in nothing but one of her bath towels that she had never realized were way, way too small. In the middle of the night, Felicity had woken to the sounds of his troubled sleep coming from the guest room across the hall. She had gone to him and kneeled next to the bed as she tried to calm him down–running her fingers through his hair and speaking softly–when he had suddenly shifted toward her in his sleep, sighing her name. She had gone back to bed after that, but stayed awake a long time and ended up waking later than usual. So late that Oliver had a mug of coffee ready for her when she finally came downstairs, cream and sugar added exactly to her liking. They'd made breakfast together then and it had all felt so beautifully, painfully domestic.

Though that was nothing compared to their current situation.

They had spent the day getting a plan together to help Oliver regain control of QC. Him making various calls to his lawyers and accountants to figure out the exact nature of his financial position and Felicity taking it all down and doing mostly legal research of her own online. They had eventually ended up sitting on opposite sides of her living room couch, the television playing in the background as they continued to work at a more relaxed pace.

Felicity had gone into a zone as she often did when she was working on the computer and had been peripherally aware of Oliver putting his work aside to watch the Rockets game. He had reclined on the couch, his feet dangling over the armrest and his head on the cushions not far from where she sat. She didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he shifted to get more comfortable, his head landing on her leg.

She stares down at him a moment in surprise when it first happens, wondering if she should wake him. She takes her computer off her lap and gently sets it on the coffee table, moving slowly so as not to disturb him. But it does anyway and when he shifts again his head is suddenly pillowed in her lap.

"OK," she says to herself, now entirely unsure what to do. This is too comfortable, too domestic. She could get used tothis and she knows she shouldn't. Because Oliver isn't ready and he may never be. Felicity knows she can only hang onto a vague hope for so long before it starts to change her.

But she can't help it if she wants to indulge that fantasy for a little while. So, she reaches down and scrubs her fingers through the hair on his head and chin, trying to ignore the way her heart flutters when he unconsciously turns and nuzzles into her stomach.


	32. Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from an Anon on Tumblr: "Oliver asking Felicity to dance (reference back to 2x08 'Time for a Dance?' ) :)" First of all, I feel terrible about this. This was going to be fluffy, but a strange set of circumstances yesterday inspired me in a different way. The song is "The Way I Feel Inside" by The Zombies.

It's a year to the day since Oliver died.

Felicity has tried her best to think of it as just another day, but everyone seems determined not to let her. Her mother called this morning and managed to make it about her, as always. Sara showed up in Starling three days ago, saying she was attending to League business and reminding Felicity that she was just as terrible at lying as Oliver used to be. Thea and Roy asked, again, if she was sure she didn't want to spend it with them, as they had nearly every day for the last month. Diggle at least didn't harass her about it. Though he still insisted on driving her to the young widows support group, his roundabout way of insuring she actually went. Those girls were the worst, though, with their repeated refrains of "take care of yourself," and, "you don't have to go it alone," and most preposterous of all, "you can't keep blaming yourself."

Though Felicity can't really fault them for that one. It's not as if they can know that she has every right to blame herself. That most nights she wakes crying as the sound of the gunshot that killed Oliver rings in her ears. As loud and painful as it was that day over comms. They can't know that she spends part of each day imagining what she could have done differently: made him stay at the lair that night, tapped into the building's security faster, seen that guard a half second earlier. She knows those kinds of thoughts are useless, that death was always a risk of what they did, but sometimes imagining the ways she could have saved Oliver is the only way Felicity can keep herself from remembering that she'll have to live the rest of her life without him.

And that's why she needs to be alone today. Because it was always about the two of them. Even when they were surrounded by crowds of people or danger, they were aware of each other. It hadn't escaped the notice of everyone around them, but they had never really understood how deep it went. Felicity and Oliver themselves hadn't realized until they'd finally stopped denying themselves each other.

He was the one to suggest their first date. Though he hadn't called it that when he proposed it–just dinner after work that Roy and Diggle happened to decline to attend. But she knew there was nothing unplanned about it when they arrived at the quiet Italian restaurant and were led through the noisy bar to a near-empty dining area. She could scarcely imagine Team Arrow sharing a meal in that space, the same one she walks into now. The only place she could think to spend this first anniversary of losing him.

As she takes a seat at her table for two, Felicity looks up at the grape vines blanketing the trellises overhead and the dim strands of lights running along the exposed wood and remembers how romantic that night was.

Oliver ordered them a very expensive, very delicious bottle of wine the moment they sat down and they chatted over dinner to the faint sounds of a man rolling out fresh pasta in front of a glowing brick pizza oven in another corner of the room.

Felicity finally worked up the courage to ask him if this was a date sometime during dessert, but instead of answering, Oliver smiled and glanced over her shoulder, seeming to fixate on something behind her as his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"What?" she had asked and turned to find nothing but the empty dining area behind her. He took a deep breath before answering.

"I was just thinking I wanted to ask you to dance," he had admitted, shrugging slightly. "But that didn't go so well last time."

"Well, that's because I was mad at you," Felicity had replied, remembering that disastrous party at the Queen mansion. "I'm not even a little mad at you right now," she offered.

"So you would say 'yes' if I asked?" he had probed hopefully.

"Probably," she had said with a shrug and a playful smile.

Oliver smiled and took his napkin from his lap. He walked up to her side and stuck out his hand. "Shall we?" he had asked. Felicity's only answer was to slip her hand into his and stand.

One song ended as he led her to the middle of the floor and a new one began just as they got themselves into position. It was at once familiar to Felicity, though she couldn't quite remember who sang it because she was too focused on how oddly fitting the lyrics were to her and Oliver.

_Should I try to hide_   
_The way I feel inside_   
_My heart, for you_   
_Would you say that you_   
_Would try to love me too_   
_In your mind_   
_Could you ever be_   
_Really close to me_   
_I can tell the way you smile_   
_If I feel that I_   
_Could be certain then_   
_I would say the things I want to say tonight_

And they had both said those things that night. And when they had danced to that song again at their wedding, she could tell by the way he smiled–as she always could–how much he loved her.

When the song starts to play again now, she thinks she's imagining it. But as the verse starts in earnest, she knows it's really playing. Tears spring to her eyes and almost at the same moment, the rain that's been threatening to pour all day begins to fall. It had rained that night of their first date too, though much later. They were walking back to her apartment when it started and the first time they kissed, Oliver's hair was damp and spiky as she ran her fingers through it.

Despite her tears, Felicity can't help but breathe a short laugh at the coincidence. She has never really believed in an afterlife or ghosts or signs, but she can't help but feel Oliver in this moment. It feels like more than serendipity. It feels like somehow the cosmos is reaching out to comfort her and she decides this is a helping hand she won't ignore.

So, she shuts her eyes, sways to the music as the rain falls and wonders if it will be easier next year.


	33. Ex-husband

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompts from aliskaleidoscope on Tumblr: Oliver discovers Felicity was married before.

"Good night, guys," Felicity yells as she plucks her purse off the back of her chair.

"Where are you going?" Oliver asks, tilting his head in confusion and lowering the bo staff he was wielding against Roy a moment before.

"I have dinner with a friend," she says, too casually. She tries to race toward the stairs, but Oliver holds out the staff and blocks her way.

"What friend?" he asks. His brow furrows when she sees how fidgety he is and adds, "Is everything OK?" Felicity sighs and cringes, then takes a deep breath before she answers.

"I'm meeting my ex-husband," she says matter-of-factly.

"What?!" Roy yelps in surprise and even Diggle does a double-take.

"Your ex-husband?" Oliver repeats, shocked. "You were married before? Are you sure you should be meeting this guy alone? What happened between you two?" Oliver asks in rapid-fire succession, his voice slightly menacing.

"Nothing happened," Felicity says firmly. "The split was amicable. It was no big deal. We were married for like 24-hours." She tries to walk around the bo staff, as if that should be explanation enough, but Oliver stops her again.

"Explain, please," he says, though the second word sounds perfunctory.

"Fine," she grumbles. "The Quickie Vegas Marriage isn't just something tourists do. The people who grow up there succumb to the cliché on occasion. My high school boyfriend and I were among them. It was prom, we were drunk and both freaking out about the fact that I was about to move across the country. Anyway, we got it annulled immediately and we dated for another six months before he decided we needed to 'see other people.' Which was such bull–"

"Felicity," Oliver interrupts, sharply.

"Right, sorry," she says. "Anyway, we're just going to have dinner and catch up. It's been a few years since I saw him last and he's in town for work. That research on Saverin Industries can wait until tomorrow." She succeeds in pushing past the bo staff this time, but Oliver's hands tighten around it.

"Are you sure you'll be OK?" he offers one last time.

"Yes," she says over her shoulder. "I'll see you guys tomorrow," she adds and waves a hand in the air.

There's stunned silence in the lair in the first few moments after Felicity leaves. Roy is the first to break it. He drops the bo staff and grabs his hoodie as he makes a run for the stairs. He's half way to the door when Oliver speaks up.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks.

"Oh, come on," Roy says dismissively. "You're telling me you don't want to get a look at this guy?" Oliver opens his mouth to respond and then stops himself. He glances at Diggle questioningly and his former bodyguard shrugs.

"I'm kinda curious," he admits.

Oliver considers a moment, his fingers tapping absently on the bo staff before he sighs in resignation.

"Let's take the van," he suggests. "It'll be less conspicuous if we take one vehicle."


	34. Ex-husband 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn you guys for being so encouraging. But this is it. We are not meeting Felicity’s ex-husband. I am not doing multi-chapter stories right now.

They know they're done for when Felicity stops smiling at her ex-husband's retreating figure and marches straight toward the van.

"Oh shit," Roy says, dropping the binoculars and jumping back from the tinted window. "Diggle, drive!" he yells and then hits the floor.

"No way," Diggle says as he flings himself out of the driver's seat and lands on the van's floor between him and Oliver. "If we drive away now she'll know for sure it was us."

"He's right," Oliver whispers harshly. "Just shut up and stop moving around. If she thinks the van is empty, maybe she'll just think it's a coincidence."

They lay huddled on the ground for a moment, the three of them scarcely breathing when Felicity raps her knuckles sharply on the window. They stay silent, exchanging nervous glances when she knocks again, this time much harder.

"Open the door, you guys," she menaces. She sighs in exasperation when they don't comply. "I know you're in there," she yells, dangerously close to Loud Voice territory. "You think I don't know our van when I see it? I picked out the damn van. I spend most of my time in the van. Now open up."

Oliver looks to Diggle who gives him a shrug of defeat. With a sigh, Oliver sits up and slides open the van door to reveal Felicity standing there, hands on hips and an angry frown on her face.

"The four of us need to have a conversation about boundaries," she says.


	35. Ex-husband 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is happening. I make no promises about whether there will or won't be another chapter. Because apparently my word means nothing.

 

When Felicity agrees to a second dinner with her ex-husband, Oliver isn't content to spy from the van.

"Ms. Smoak," he says as he walks up to their dinner table, "fancy meeting you here."

"Oliv…Mr. Queen," she starts, her confusion quickly turning to anger. "What are you doing here?"

"I did introduce you to this place, remember?" he says with a charming, fake smile. He turns his attention to the ex-husband and the smile takes on a smug edge. "Oliver Queen," he says and offers his hand. The man stands and takes it and Oliver is pleased to find that while his grip is strong, his own is stronger. He sizes up the man in front of him, slightly shorter than he is with dark hair and a face even he will admit is handsome. He expected someone nerdier, less confident maybe, certainly someone who wouldn't be able to afford dinner at one of Starling City's nicest restaurants.

"Warren Smith," the man says cordially.

"Warren Smith," Oliver repeats, "why does that name sound familiar?"

"You came to one of my clubs in Vegas when I was just starting out," Warren says. "Those paparazzi photos of you getting thrown out actually put us on the map."

"Right," Oliver says and nods. "You own that place?"

"I own the whole casino now," he replies with a smile.

"And a few more around the world," Felicity brags. Warren turns back to her and winks and Oliver clenches his jaw.

"I'll have to visit one," he says tightly. "You two mind if I sit down for a bit?" he asks. "Apparently they didn't think I wanted my table ready when I got here." He doesn't wait for an answer, just steals an empty chair from a nearby table and takes a seat–all the while pretending to be oblivious to the confused look Warren gives to Felicity and the apologetic smile she gives him in return.

"So what brings you to Starling City, Warren?"

"I'm thinking of opening a casino here," he explains. "The underground, illegal gambling culture here has taken a hit since the Arrow first appeared and there's a lot of money to be made if a legitimate casino fills that void."

"I think it's a brilliant move," Felicity says and Oliver dislikes how proud she sounds. "I'll be the first person through the doors."

"Oh, well, you won't be allowed to gamble there," Warren says seriously.

"Why not?" she asks with a pout.

"You think I don't remember how well you count cards?" he says with a mischievous smile. "You'll bleed us dry."

"I don't remember you being so critical when I was winning us enough money to buy nice dinners and concert tickets," she teases.

"I wasn't the House then, now I sympathize with their position." They smile at each other, full of memories and connections Oliver will never know and he suddenly decides he's seen enough.

"Well, I should let you two catch up," he says and stands, snapping them out of their moment.

"It was a pleasure meeting you," Warren says and stands too, offering his hand.

"Thanks," Oliver replies. "If you need any help getting the required permits or finding a good contractor in the city, feel free to contact me. The local government can be tough to navigate for an honest businessman."

"I'll keep that in mind," Warren replies, but Olicer gets the distinct feeling that he's just being polite.

"Ms. Smoak," he says and nods in her direction.

"Mr. Queen," she glowers back

Oliver is barely out of earshot when he takes out his phone and makes a call.

"So what's he like?" Roy asks in lieu of a greeting.

"Off," Oliver replies irritably. "I'll be back soon. You and Diggle start looking into this guy.

* * *

They find nothing.

"We have to keep looking," Oliver insists, lightly slamming his fist on Felicity's desk. "Everybody's hiding something."

"Not this guy," Diggle argues, turning the chair to look at him. "His reputation is squeaky clean. If anything, he's made enemies for refusing to cut corners. If this guy's hiding something then even Felicity is going to have a hard time finding it."

"He seems like a nice dude," Roy offers with a shrug.

"No, something's off about this guy," Oliver assures them. "I know it."

"Are you sure you don't just  _want_  something to be wrong with this guy?" Diggle asks, eyeing him skeptically.

He opens his mouth to answer, but is interrupted by the sound of the lair door slamming open.

"Oliver!" Felicity yells, heels clicking as she races down the stairs. "What did you not understand about the boundary talk?" she says when she reaches the bottom and marches directly toward Oliver, the better to yell directly into his face. "How dare you follow us."

"I had to meet him," he says, unapologetic, "make sure you could trust him. And for the record, I don't."

"Warren?" Felicity asks incredulously. "He's harmless. And a good businessman, for your information."

"How do you know?" Oliver fires back.

"Because I checked him out," she snaps, waving her hands in the air, "which is what I suspect the three of you have been doing." She turns to scowl at Roy and Diggle before she turns back to him. "Let me guess, you didn't find anything."

Oliver frowns but remains silent.

"Wait, why were you looking into his background?" Roy pipes in and Felicity grows timid.

"Because I'm considering working for him," she admits.

"What?" Oliver says, taken aback.

"He wants the new casino's security to be cutting edge," she explains, shifting nervously. "He wants me to handle the tech side of it and then apply it to his casinos worldwide if things go well." Oliver stands stunned a moment, unable to imagine her leaving QC even if he doesn't really work there anymore.

"And you think the offer is legitimate?" he finally manages.

"Of course," she replies, confused. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Are you sure it's not just an excuse to keep seeing you?"

Oliver knows it's a stupid thing to say by the immediate look of shock and hurt on Felicity's face. But before he can say one word of apology, she slaps him. Hard. Enough that his ears ring after and he can't form a clear though until she's run off and slammed the lair door behind her.


	36. Kevlar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from an Anon on Tumblr: Olicity undercover and Felicity saving Oliver
> 
> I suppose I bent the rules a little bit here, but I wrote a scene like this for “White Lies" already and wanted to do something a little different.

"Told you so," Felicity says smugly as they run down the hall, her slightly behind because the long train of her dress is slowing her down.

"I know," Oliver says through gritted teeth, but she goes on, waving her arms angrily as her voice rises.

"'I'll look too bulky,' you said. 'People will know I'm wearing something under my suit,' you said. 'What are the chances anyone will even shoot at me?'" she finishes. "Well, looks like there was a 100% chance," she says and pokes a finger at the holes in his shirt where the bullets hit his vest.

Suddenly, Oliver grabs her and drags her through an open door off the hall, slamming her back against the wall next to the door.

"Hey!" Felicity starts, but he shushes her, pressing his index finger to her lips. Her eyes widen in surprise a moment before he removes his hand and protectively braces himself over her on the wall, pressing against her. It's silent a moment and then the sound of footsteps and guards yelling goes by. They stay that way until the sound fades and then Oliver steps back.

Felicity fidgets a moment, eyes downturned before she finally looks at him and speaks. "You really are bulkier with that vest," she mutters awkwardly.

Oliver grabs her hand and leads her out of the room. He manages not to smile until he's turned away from her.


	37. Burlesque

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from bunbunchi on Tumblr: Olicity = Verdant is having burlesque night and Thea daring Felicity to perform. Oliver watches.

"How did you convince her to get up there?" Diggle leans over and yells into Thea's ear so she will hear him over the music and cheers.

"I just waited until the right moment to dare her to get up there," she says and smiles at him. "You can thank the bartender for doing the hard work." He turns and raises a questioning eyebrow at Sara and she smiles, back and raises a drink in his direction.

"She's going to get you back for that you know," he yells in her direction, leaning over the bar. "I'd watch my bank accounts if I were you."

"The risk is worth the reward," she says with a shrug.

"What's the reward?" he asks. "Other than the obvious," he adds and points to Roy, who's capturing Felicity's performance on his phone.

"That," Sara says with a sly grin and points across the room. Diggle turns just in time to see Oliver walk onto the dance floor from the back. He stops dead when he sees Felicity up on the stage and his jaw drops–as does the drink in his hand. He's snapped back to attention by the sound of the glass shattering and then looks around nervously to see if anyone saw him.

"Did you get it?" Sara asks excitedly and leans over the bar to look at Roy's phone.

"Oh yeah," he says smugly.

"Definitely worth it," Diggle says and clinks his drink against the beer in Sara's hand.


	38. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the muse awakens from her slumber and things happen.

Oliver and Diggle have barely reached the bottom of the stairs before Felicity is racing toward them. John barely has time to step out of the way so she can fling her arms around Oliver's neck. He's seen this kind of thing a thousand times before: two people wrapped in each other's arms, saying nothing. Not just from them but from his military days.

Every homecoming there were women desperately clutching at their returned soldiers, as if seeing them wasn't enough to proved that they were really there. And those soldiers, perhaps not gripping as tightly but their closed eyes and contented smiles just as meaningful. John always liked seeing that. It made him feel at peace. Like everything would be OK. But it only makes him worry whenever he sees Oliver and Felicity in the same situation.

Because this is as open as they ever are with each other. In a moment, they'll let go. They'll go back to the quiet détente that's been going on for months because they're both too afraid of someone getting hurt that they won't take a chance. He worries that they're hurting more this way. He worries what will happen to her if one day Oliver doesn't come back. He worries what will happen to him if one day Felicity isn't waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.


	39. Truth Serum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on these prompts from two different anons (or maybe the same one, I suppose I'll never know): Oliver gets injected with Sodium Pentathol during a mission and says some REALLY interesting things to Felicity! AND Prompt: Felicity is blindsided by Oliver's declaration of love for her

Felicity always worries about Oliver when he's out Arrow-ing. But it's been nearly 6 hours since he was first captured and she is starting to lose her mind.

Roy and Diggle left an hour ago, after her desperate searching finally resulted in a traffic camera footage that revealed where they'd taken him. She had been pacing the lair nervously ever since. Though it didn't do much to calm her down. This new base of operations is so much smaller than the Verdant basement that she felt more trapped than anything. She felt a little better when Diggle called 30 minutes ago to assure her they were all fine, but there had been something off about his tone. She hadn't noticed at the time because Oliver had yelled, "Hi Felicity," so loudly that she'd forgotten what she was saying. But she had done nothing but think about it since they hung up.

When they finally do return, she almost cheers at the sound of the door opening. She whips around and stares at the top of the stairs as Diggle, then Roy and finally Oliver appear.

"Felicity!" he yells excitedly and pushes their other partners aside so he can run toward her. She runs too and they meet at the bottom of the stairs. She throws her arms around his neck and hugs him the way she always does after he comes back from danger and is surprised when, for the first time ever, he wraps his arms around her just as tightly. "I like your hugs," he sighs and that's her first clue that something is off about him. The second comes when, instead of letting her go after a moment as he usually does, he picks her up and walks the rest of the way into the lair. "You're so tiny," he gushes. "I love picking you up," he adds and then runs his hand over her ponytail. "And your hair's so soft," he continues. "God, you're pretty."

"Um, John, what's wrong with him?" she asks over Oliver's shoulder, deeply confused.

"They injected him with sodium pentathol," he explains. "He's been a little talkative."

"Do you think he told them anything?" she asks, unsuccessfully trying to squirm out of his hold.

"I don't think so. When we got there, he was rambling about how much they were going to regret it when Roy and I showed up."

"And he's been rambling about you ever since we mentioned you," Roy grumbles and then affects a pretty accurate impression of Oliver. "'Felicity's so smart. Felicity's so funny. Felicity, Felicity, Felicity.' He wouldn't shut up about you."

"Because she is," Oliver snaps and then glowers at Roy a moment before turning back to her. He loosens his grip on her and Felicity thinks he's finally going to put her down, but all he does is rearrange his hands so he can hoist her up in the air and scrunch his nose at her–like she's some giant puppy and not a grown woman. "I wish you could have come with them to get me," he says. "I missed you. But I also really hate when you leave the lair. I don't like it when you're in danger," he adds with a pout and then pulls her back to him. Except now he's holding her so high that his head comes to rest against her stomach. Felicity sets her hands on his shoulders and stares down at him and then gives Diggle a look of alarm.

"How much did they give him?" she asks.

"Don't know," he replies with a shrug and tries to hide his snickering. He ignores Roy's snide, "too much," from the back of the room where he's putting away their gear and then continues. "We'll just have to wait until it wears off. I'm more concerned about that gash on the back of his head," he says, moving toward the medical supplies as he does.

Felicity returns her attention to the very happy Oliver snuggled against her and tangles her fingers in his hair so she can move his head to get a better look at the wound.

"Oof, that looks terrible," she says with a grimace at the dried blood.

"Mmm, that feels nice," he practically purrs and leans into her touch.

"Put me down so we can stitch this up," she admonishes, ignoring the errant thought that he's basically acting like a giant cat.

"Do I have to?" he whines.

"Yes," she says sternly.

"Alright," he mutters and actually pouts as he sets her gently on the ground. Though he still doesn't let her go. Instead, he rests his hands on her hips and just stares at her, a big, goofy smile plastered on his face.

"Digg, I think the blood loss is getting to him, maybe get an IV too," she says and eyes him warily. This is just too weird; she can't believe this is the same broody Oliver that left a few hours ago. She's just beginning to consider the possibility of clones when Oliver chuckles and then, in an act that proves sodium pentathol must have caused some sort of permanent damage, he raises a hand and playfully taps the tip of her nose with his finger.

"You're so cute," he says, "head wounds always look worse than they really are. I'll be fine."

"Is there any way you guys could have gotten the wrong person?" she asks. "Did we check that this isn't an Oliver mask?" she adds and then reaches up to check his neck for creases. Oliver (or more likely his doppelgänger) practically giggles and reaches up to wrap his hand around her wrist.

"You're so silly," he says and then adds, "I love you," more dreamily.

"I love you too, Oliver," Felicity replies, absently and a little exasperated.

"Really?" he asks excitedly, drawing her focus again. He grabs her face in both hands and pulls her toward him, lips puckered, but she pushes against his chest with both hands.

"Whoa, what are you doing?!" she asks, slightly panicky.

"You said you love me back," he replies, like it should be obvious. He leans in again, but Felicity steps back and he drops his hands to his sides, looking disappointed.

"Yeah, I thought you meant as a friend or because you think this place is bugged, like with Slade or something," she says nervously. "Not like...that," she adds and waves her hands between them. His jaw clenches and he gives her a frown before he responds.

"Well, I mean it like that and I meant it then too–despite what I said on the island," he says firmly, all the giddiness suddenly gone from his tone. "God, Felicity, you used to be so good at telling when I was lying," he says with a pout–like he's disappointed in her–and Felicity actually feels a little guilty. Because she knew he was lying then, she just chose to let him do so until he was ready to admit it. Which appears to be now.

"Oliver, I—" she starts.

"Do you love me like that?" he interrupts, voice soft with sincerity, just as it was that night in the Queen mansion.

"I–" she starts, not knowing how the sentence might have ended. Thankfully, Roy saves her from herself.

"OK, boss, time to stop bothering Felicity and deal with that head wound," he says and grabs Oliver's arm. Oliver turns and sends a threatening glance in his direction.

"Oliver...," Felicity warns and he looks at her dejectedly. "Go on," she says firmly. Oliver begrudgingly lets Roy lead him away and Felicity gives him an appreciative glance. Diggle steps up beside her then.

"Please tell me you have something to sedate him," she says lowly.

"Yeah, but why would I?" he says with a smirk. "I'm enjoying this too much."

"I hate you," she replies. It only makes him smile wider.

"Maybe you should head home," he offers. "He might be easier to manage if you're not here actually."

"Yeah, maybe," she agrees. "Is he going to be alright though? Like, really?"

"He'll be fine," Diggle assures.

With a nod, Felicity moves toward her desk and grabs her things. She usually doesn't like to leave before everyone else, but this is surreal.

"Are you leaving?" Oliver asks, ducking his head between Roy and Diggle to look at her.

"Yep, see you tomorrow," she replies, already rushing toward the stairs in hopes of a quick escape.

"But you didn't answer my question," he says and tries to follow her, but Diggle and Roy hold him back. She pauses and fixes Oliver with a serious look.

"Sit down, Oliver," she says with a sigh. He complies, but gives her these little sad puppy dog eyes that she thinks are unfair. She tilts her head and smiles at him sympathetically. "We can talk tomorrow," she promises.

"But I want to talk now," he pouts and she can't help but smile at how childish he sounds.

"No, right now you have to let John and Roy stitch you up," she says and then turns toward the stairs.

"Felicity, wait," he says as she rushes up the stairs.

"Oliver, hold still," Diggle says in frustration.

"Felicity!" Oliver yells and it takes all her resolve to avoid turning around. "Felicityyyyyyyy," he whines and the sound is only cut off by the door closing behind her.

She tells herself that she won't read too much into what happened as she drives home. He was drugged, he didn't know what he was saying. But she googles "sodium pentathol" the minute she gets home anyway. Felicity is comforted by the fact that "truth serum" isn't quite an accurate nickname. In fact, after reading the effects, she wonders if she hasn't somehow been dosed with it her whole life. What a person says under the drug isn't so much unadulterated truth as uninhibited rambling that listeners have to sift through. In fact, those under it can become so compliant, they may lie just to appease their questioners.

She wonders, almost hopes, that's what happened when Oliver talked about what happened with Slade. He would have been right to suspect that it would make her happy to hear him say that he really did love her. And it had, today and all those months ago, but it had also hurt.

She had thought he was just letting her down easy that day on the island. He had been careful not to confirm or deny his feelings, guarded with her in a way he hadn't been in a long time. He had just smiled at her affectionately–the way he always does when she's on a ramble–and left her to assume it had all been an act. And maybe it had been and maybe it hadn't, but she wasn't going to wait around until he was ready to tell her the truth. So, she'd decided it was time to move on.

Felicity revived that long-ignored online dating profile and sifted through the messages that were just graphic sexual offers to find the viable candidates. She had gone on some dates and spent most of them bored. She spent most of them trying not to think about how hard Oliver would try to hide his annoyance every time she told him she would need to take a night off from Arrow business to go on a date.

She had eventually started steadily seeing a journalist named Eddie Raymond. He was sweet and funny and best of all, uncomplicated. He had no problem showing how much he liked her, wanted her. Things were just starting to get serious when Felicity realized they could never work.

As (bad) luck would have it, Eddie covered the Starling City crime beat. At least half of his stories featured the Arrow and his search for information on the "mysterious, masked vigilante" bordered on obsession. In fact, they'd met because Eddie wanted to question her about the incident with the Count. For months, Felicity walked a delicate line as she listened to him talk about work while struggling not to correct him when he got something wrong.

She was doing just that one day when Eddie heaved an exasperated sigh and asked her, "Why are you always doing that?"

"Doing what?" she had asked, confused.

"Defending him? You always assume the Arrow's intentions are good, but you can't know that."

"Yes–" she had started, but then caught herself. She had backtracked then, rambling about him being right and her quick agreement had probably made him more suspicious than anything she'd done previously. He had seemed to forget it eventually, but Felicity hadn't. It was that moment when she realized that much as she liked Eddie, she couldn't commit to him fully–nor anyone else for that matter. She was already committed to the Arrow, the cause and the man. Oliver and helping him save the city would always come first for her.

Felicity had continued to work with that knowledge the last few months, each passing day making it clearer that something would have to change soon. This sodium pentathol incident may finally provide the chance. But Felicity knows not to get her hopes up. She'd tried that once before. She promises herself that this time will be different. She won't be the one to initiate a conversation. It's Oliver's turn. That night, she spends several hours of semi-wakefulness reminding herself of that before finally drifting off to sleep.

* * *

 

Felicity is woken again a few short hours later by the sound of her doorbell. It rings twice before she realizes she's not dreaming. She crawls out of bed, grabs her glasses and stumbles to her bedroom window hoping to see if she can tell exactly what kind of madman might be at her door in the middle of the night before she goes downstairs. When she sees Oliver's motorcycle parked in front of her house–the moonlight glinting off it–she is suddenly wide awake.

"Of course" Felicity mutters with a sigh and then turns to her bedroom door. She puts on her slippers and tries to control the wild tangle of her hair before she leaves the room. She also grabs the bat Diggle suggested she start keeping in her room just in case. If the sodium pentathol hasn't worn off, she might need it to make sure he respects her personal space.

The doorbell rings again as she trudges down the stairs and Felicity rolls her eyes.

"I'm coming!" she yells in annoyance, but she stops short when she reaches the door. With a deep breath she steadies herself and then opens the door.

"Hi," Oliver says and Felicity wonders if he's leaning on her doorjamb like that because he knows how good it makes him look.

"Oliver, what are you doing here?" she asks, trying to sound angry. "It's 5 in the morning."

"I hope that's not for me," he says and points at the bat in her hand, completely ignoring her question.

"It might be if you try to pick me up again," she threatens.

"Can I come in?" he asks, ignoring that too and suppressing a laugh.

"Why?"

"So we can talk. It's tomorrow."

"When I said 'tomorrow,' I kind of meant later in the day. At least after sunrise."

"I needed to see you now," he says and Felicity feels herself blush.

"Why, don't think you'll feel the same way in the light of day?" She means it a as a joke, but she sounds more bitter than she intends. Oliver frowns and looks stung.

"No, let me in and I'll explain."

"How do I know it won't just be the sodium pentathol talking?" she asks warily.

"Because it wore off hours ago while I was driving in circles working up the nerve to come here," he replies and the honesty of it makes her wonder if what he says is true. "Please, Felicity," he begs and she knows right then she'll acquiesce. She can never resist the way he says her name.

With a frown, she sets down the bat and steps aside and Oliver's face breaks into one of those big, charming smiles. He walks through the door and then stops in the foyer as she closes the door, sweeping his eyes over everything he can see, like he's committing it to memory.

"Uh, you want some coffee?" Felicity asks because she will definitely need caffeine if Oliver expects her to have a coherent conversation right now.

"Sure," he says and gestures for her to walk ahead so he can follow.

She leads him to her kitchen and makes the coffee in silence. Oliver watches her the whole time, one corner of his mouth upturned in a little half-smile. Felicity is used to Oliver staring at her idly–she did used to spend a good deal of her day sitting directly in his eye-line–but this is different, more akin to the way she stares at him sometimes. It makes her uncomfortable, even if she sort of likes it.

"Thanks," he says when she sets the mug in front of him. She sits down in the chair opposite him and sips her coffee and still he just stares at her.

"Oliver," she starts because he might never, "you really don't have to explain what happened earlier. You were drugged, your inhibitions were low, I'm not going to hold you to anything you said."

"But I meant everything I said," he interrupts and somehow his staring feels even more intense.

"Oliver–" she starts again, less sure.

"Felicity, I'm sorry for what happened between us with Slade," he says in a rush and it's almost as surprising as that love confession all those months ago. "My goal was to trick him and I did so at the expense of your feelings. I shouldn't have done that."

"It's OK," Felicity starts, but stops when he holds up a hand.

"Please," he asks. He pauses a moment to take a deep breath and Felicity suddenly notices how nervous he is. "I realized how much I loved you the moment I said it that night," he continues. "It surprised me. Before that I...I didn't know." He shifts in his seat, leaning forward onto his elbows and fixing her with that soft, sincere look he gives her sometimes.

"You gave me a chance to tell you the truth that day on the island and I wanted to tell it, but I was a coward" he says and she can hear the regret in it. "I told myself it was because I wanted to protect you, that our lives are too dangerous and being together can only end in one of us getting hurt. And that was part of the truth."

"And it's still true," she interrupts. "So what's changed?"

"Nothing," he admits and then the corner of his mouth turns up slightly. "But if felt good, saying those things to you. I liked telling you how I feel about you." Felicity blushes and tries to hide the goofy smile threatening to break across her face by taking a sip of her coffee. But Oliver's smile widens right into goofy territory as he adds, "I want to keep telling you."

Though that smile falters after a moment and is replaced by a more serious look. Tentatively, he reaches out and places his hand lightly over hers where is wrapped around her coffee mug. Felicity stares down at their hands and slowly loosens her grip on the mug, flexing her hand against his palm and enjoying the warmth, the largeness of it. Oliver responds in kind, his thumb gently stroking over hers–calloused from firing arrows–and she suddenly pulls back, scooting the mug and her hands closer to herself on the table. He looks stung a moment then leans back in his chair while Felicity wraps her other hand around the mug and nervously fiddles with her nails.

"And what happens when you change your mind again?" she asks softly, not looking at him. "What happens when you decide we can't be together anymore because you think you have to protect me?" He tries to speak, but Felicity stands and cuts him off. "I'll tell you what happens, Oliver," she says bitterly. "I'll have to accept it. Because once you decide you know what's best, forget what anyone else thinks. I don't want to live with that fear in the back of my mind all the time. And I won't be in a relationship with you if it means I'll constantly have to convince you we're worth the risk. I can't do that." She leaves the room, her coffee abandoned with Oliver, and walks into her living room, barely lit by the light from the street lamps outside. She sits on her couch, hoping he will just leave.

Instead, he walks slowly into the room and sits down on the couch next to her, close but just out of reach.

"Go home, Oliver," she says hollowly, all her fight replaced with exhaustion. "We'll just forget this whole thing ever happened and move on."

"I can't do that," he says after a moment. He turns to her and his expression looks so much like it did that night in the Queen mansion. "I know I screwed up and I know I don't deserve to ask you to give me a chance to make up for it, but I love you, Felicity. I'm so sorry I ever did anything to make you doubt that." He reaches out, takes her hands in his and scoots closer. "I know there are risks and I know this is complicated, but I can't keep myself from you anymore. I want to fight for us. I want you." He lets go of one hand and cups her cheek. "It's one of the few things in my life I know is true."

Felicity closes her eyes and leans into his palm. It feels nice. Almost as nice as what he said. She's wanted to hear him say it for so long that it almost seems unreal now. And, for one more moment, she considers not letting them become a reality, to protect herself from the hurt she still fears. But she wants him too and she can't deny herself the chance to be happy with him anymore either.

She opens her eyes and the moment she sees Oliver again, Felicity knows there was never really a choice. She moves toward him and gently takes his face in both her hands, gently dragging her nails through the scruff on his cheeks. He shuts his eyes and sighs and then, after a moment, he turns his head slightly and kisses her palm. She gasps a little when he does and the sound makes him open his eyes again. His gaze flicks down to her lips a second before he looks into her eyes again, asking for permission. She leans toward him and he meets her halfway. The kiss is gentler than she would have expected him capable of, but it feels as amazing as she always imagined. It feels even better though when he wraps his arms around her and pulls her toward him until she's sitting in his lap, straddling his hips as they kiss. She expects things to get more intense in this position; instead, he stops kissing her to bury his face against her neck and hugs her tight. Felicity wraps her arms around his neck and relaxes against him, thinking how nice it would be to fall asleep just like this.

"I think the sun is coming up," she says softly when she opens her eyes and notices the room seems lighter. She feels him shift and turn to look at the window before he hums in agreement. "Still love me?" Felicity asks and leans back to smile down at him. Oliver smiles before answering.

"Yeah," he says. "Do you love me?"

"Hmm, ask me at sunset," Felicity jokes before she leans down to kiss him again, but she already knows her answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave some feedback on this one if you've got the time. I worked for a long time on this one.


	40. The Heir and the IT Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I essentially had a Felicity/Nyssa dream as I was drifting off to sleep last night. So I wrote it down. Happens during “Unthinkable” when Sara and Oliver go off to talk about how far he has to go to save the city and Felicity and Nyssa take that time to flirt, obviously.

Nyssa, Daughter of Ra's al Ghul, Heir to the Demon, is used to striking fear into people at first meeting. She has watched dangerous men cower in fear at the mention of her father's name. Fights have been won with less. She thought she knew every possible response to her introduction, but the slightly confused, mocking tone of this little blonde in front of her is something entirely new.

She has to admit, she kind of likes it.

She watches as this Felicity Smoak, MIT, Class of '09, stares after Queen and her love and wonders if she might actually live up to everything Sara said about her.

"You needn't worry that we will reveal your hideout," Nyssa says, drawing her attention. "The League has a reputation for secrecy."

"Among other things," she mutters derisively, sizing up her and the assassins behind her.

"Ah, right," Nyssa nods and crosses her arms over her chest. "Sara said you disapproved of killing. So you don't believe some men deserve to die?"

"No," she replies, raising her chin in defiance.

"Then you are a fool."

"No," she snaps and crosses her arms too. "I believe everyone deserves the chance to redeem themselves. Most of the people in this room are proof of that. Including Sara." She quickly glances at where Sara and Queen are talking on the other side of the room before stepping closer and continuing almost at a whisper. "I don't know what deal you and your father forced her into, but I wish she hadn't agreed to it. Even if you and your minions do help us stop Slade."

Nyssa actually feels chastised at that. She had known Sara returning to the League also meant a return to killing. Much as she had wanted to protect her from that, she couldn't deny herself the chance to make her stay. The Smoak girl must notice her reaction and her expression takes on a hint of smugness.

"Sara is my friend and I know you both care about each other," she says, surprisingly kind. "But if something happens to her while she's with you, he won't be the only one coming after you," she threatens and points in Queen's direction. Nyssa can't help but smile at her confidence. It reminds her of another blonde who's about the same height.

"If something happens to Sara, then I shall accept any punishment you see fit," she replies, voice suggestive. The girl actually squeaks in surprise at the implication and then tries to cover up her loss of composure by clearing her throat. Nyssa nearly laughs.

Sara was right about this girl. It's fun–surprising her. Perhaps she will keep playing with this Felicity.


	41. Bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from ohmypreciousgirl on Tumblr: Smoaking Canary. Lazy Sunday: all morning in bed, lunch with Quentin and then whatever? Just them being cute and in love :3

Even on weekends, Felicity always wakes early. Her body is programmed for it after so many years of office work. And each time, Sara tries to keep her in bed as long as possible. This time, she makes it all the way to 9 am.

"OK," Felicity says, sliding out of bed, "we have to get up."

"Five more minutes," Sara pouts, making her best puppy dog eyes.

"You've said that like ten times," Felicity says with a frown, putting her hands on her hips.

"I didn't hear you complaining," Sara says with a smirk and feels a wave of satisfaction at the way Felicity blushes.

"Well, I'm putting my foot down," she says and actually stomps. "We have a lot to do before we meet your Dad for lunch."

"Ugh," Sara groans and flops face down back onto their bed. She starts a little when she hears Felicity speak again, her mouth just inches from her ear.

"Come on, sleepyhead," she says softly. "If you get up now, you can shower with me." Sara lifts her head just in time to get a glimpse of Felicity's bare ass as she walks into their bathroom—which is incentive enough.

They spend more time in the shower than at least Felicity intends and they have to rush their errands to meet Sara's father on time. As typically happens when the three of them are together, Felicity and Quentin do most of the talking. Sara prefers to watch them, smiling to herself over how well they get along. She's thankful for that.

By the time they finish their meal and say their goodbyes, Felicity is practically bouncing with excitement.

"Come on," she prods, lightly punching Sara on the shoulder, "how can you look so gloomy right now?"

"Are you sure about this?" Sara asks and gives her a skeptical frown. "It's going to be so much work. Do we really need to add on to what we already have?" Felicity purses her lips and tilts her head at her, but Sara keeps going with her last ditch attempt. "I know a dog sounds nice in theory, but taking caring of one doesn't fit into our lives. We'll never have enough time to walk it enough let alone train it in the first place. You're going to regret this when it's shedding everywhere and chewing on your shoes."

"Hey, hey, we talked about all of this," Felicity interrupts, a little exasperated. "I have wanted a dog for too long to be deterred by a couple of ruined shoes and late-night walks. And I finally convinced Oliver to let us bring it to the lair every night. The discussion phase is over. We're getting a dog." She finishes, mildly threatening, and Sara sits back in her seat with a defeated sigh.

Sara follows Felicity through endless rows of cages at a string of Starling City's pounds. She worries each time Felicity picks a dog to take out for more interaction and feels relief each time she finds them wanting. After the fifth dog, she starts to hope maybe they won't become dog owners after all.

But then Felicity's eyes go wide with wonder as she spots a hulking Rottweiler barking louder than any other dog in the room.

"Look at that one, he's gorgeous," she says and runs over eagerly.

"Be careful," Sara admonishes, but Felicity steps right up to the chain link door of the enclosure and crouches so she's eye level with the dog. It stops barking, muscles tensed defensively as Felicity rests the back of her hand against the door of the cage. It takes a tentative sniff and then glance at her.

"It's OK," Felicity says encouragingly. The dog's his whole face seems to break into a grin. His ears perk up and he licks Felicity's hand, his stubby tail shaking excitedly when she reaches her fingers through the gaps in the door to scratch his head.

"Aren't you adorable?" Felicity says in a baby voice the likes of which Sara has never heard. "What's your name?" she asks, as if the dog going to answer back.

"Bear," Sara responds for it, reading off the packet of papers attached to the outside of the cage.

"Perfect," she says, sticking her other hand through the gate to scratch both of the dog's ears.

"No kidding," Sara mutters as she flips through the dog's information. "Says here it's 120 pounds already and there's a good chance it'll get even bigger. The three of us would never fit in the house."

"How old is he?" Felicity asks, ignoring her.

"A year," Sara says. "But we can't get a dog that big. Let's keep looking." She reaches out to pull Felicity up when the dog turns toward her, hackles raised. "And it's clearly got some aggression issues," she adds, her own body tensing.

"Oh, he's fine. You just startled him," Felicity argues. "It's OK, Bear," she coos and the dog calms down again, delighting in the scratch of Felicity's nails on its head. "Excuse me," she says to get the attention of the pound employee cleaning cages nearby. "Can we take him outside?"

"Sure," the guy says, surprised. "I'll go grab a leash," he adds.

"Come on, Felicity, you can't be serious," Sara says, hands on hips. "Why don't we get something small like this one," she suggests and points at an amiable Boston terrier in the next cage.

"But I like _him_ ," Felicity insists and stands. The pound employee returns then and the dog's tail starts shaking even faster when it sees the leash in his hand. Sara rolls her eyes and steps back to avoid the swing of the cage door.

She follows behind as the pound employee leads them to the small, grassy area behind the pound. They enter a long gated enclosure and he removes the dog's leash once he closes the door. It runs around, sniffing and marking its territory before running back to be petted by Felicity.

"I brought this if you guys want to play with him," the pound worker says after a minute and holds out a tennis ball. The dog immediately becomes transfixed by the small yellow object.

"You want the ball, Bear?" Felicity teases and even Sara would admit that the way his stumpy tail shakes in response is kind of cute. She's reminded how powerful the dog is, though, when Felicity throws the ball half way down the enclosure and he goes chases after it, all sinew and speed. He brings the ball back and Felicity has to pry it from his mouth before she throws it again. She does this twice more and then holds the ball out to Sara.

"Here," she says, "you've got a better arm." Sara opens her mouth to protest when Sara interrupts her. "Come on," she begs. "Humor me."

"Alright," Sara sighs. The dog tilts its head a moment, seemingly confused, and then grows attentive when Sara pulls her arm back. She throws the ball almost twice as far and the dog takes off at the same breakneck speed, Felicity laughing and clapping as he does.

The dog bounds back and pauses a few feet from them, as if unsure who to bring the ball to. Felicity elbows Sara and she leans down to beckon him to her.

"Come on, Bear," she says and sticks out a hand. He bounds toward her, gives her the ball with little resistance and then prepares to chase it again.

Sara throws, just as far, and he brings it back to her without hesitation. He does the same the next four times, but on the fifth, he drops the ball at her feet and then plops down on his hindquarters, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he catches his breath. She crouches down so they're eye to eye and gives him a good petting, hands on either side of his head to scratch behind his ears.

"So?" Felicity says hopefully and both Sara and the dog turn to look at her. "Can we get him?"

Sara turns back to contemplate his face and he seems to do the same a moment–until he leans forward and licks her face.

"Ugh," Sara grunts and then laughs. "Bear," she says, letting the name roll around her mind as she decides. She gives him one last look before she stands and turns to Felicity. "Fine," she says with a sigh, she means to add some caveats, but before she can, Felicity wraps her arms around her neck and kisses her.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Felicity says excitedly when they finally separate. "We'll take him," she says to the pound employee.

Luckily, Bear has all his shots and is ready to go home that day. After they sign a mountain of paperwork, they squish him in the back of Felicity's Mini Cooper and drive home. Felicity shows him around the house as if he has any idea what's going on. Which he clearly doesn't considering he tries twice to mark his territory. They're just about to head to the second floor when Sara decides she's leaving this tour.

"OK, I'm starving," she says. "I'm going to start making him and us some dinner. You can have the honor of showing him where he can and can't go when he's inside." She turns to go when the sound of Felicity's voice stops her.

"What do you mean when he's inside?" she asks, pouting a little.

"Felicity, come on," Sara says firmly. "He can't stay inside all the time. He's too big. We spent all day yesterday putting that nice dog house together for him in the backyard and that's where he's going to sleep every night."

"Can't he sleep in our bed tonight? Or at least on the floor?"

Sara only gives her a withering stare in response and then turns toward the kitchen, ignoring Felicity's low grumbling. She gets so involved in cooking that she's almost done before she realizes she hasn't heard from Felicity or Bear in awhile.

"Felicity?" Sara calls out and gets no response. She walks into the living room to start searching the house for her girlfriend and their new dog when she finds them both fast asleep on the couch. Bear curled on one end, lightly snoring, and Felicity on the other, her head propped up on a pillow and her legs resting on top of the sleeping dog.

Sara smiles to herself a moment before she goes to wake them up. She knows then that Bear won't be sleeping outside tonight.


	42. Domesticity 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I never planned to continue chapter 31 of this series, but then I read the following prompt on tumblr from otpprompts on Tumblr and I got an idea. "Your OTP [Olicity in this case] lives together (either as a couple or roommates) Person A has a gorgeous singing voice, but they're very shy about it, so they only sing in the shower when they think no one is awake or around to hear them. Person B finds out they do this and starts secretly listening to person A sing in the shower by sitting outside the bathroom door. Person A catches them doing it once."

The first time Oliver hears Felicity sing, he thinks it's a dream.

While she still has to wake up early to make it to QC in time for work, he sleeps late because he doesn't. He tells her he stays awake almost until sunrise each night because it makes staying up late for Arrow business easier. In truth, he does it so that when the nightmares inevitably come, he wakes up in daylight not darkness.

That first morning, her voice gradually pulls him from sleep instead of the horrible images of his past that usually do. When he's fully conscious, he realizes what he's hearing is real and while it doesn't surprise him that Felicity likes to sing–he's listened to her idle humming as they work many a time–he's surprised at how good she is when she's fully singing. Oliver climbs out of his bed in her guest room and follows the sound until he reaches the bathroom door. He smiles to himself as he hears the sound of the shower running under her voice. He decides to stay up then rather than go back to sleep and by the time she comes downstairs, breakfast is half ready.

"You're up early," she says as she walks into the kitchen.

"Didn't feel like going back to sleep," he explains and then hands her a cup of coffee.

"Nightmares?" she says sympathetically, hunching a bit to sip her coffee.

"No, I heard you singing," he says, turning to focus on the food again. But he spins back around when Felicity seems to choke on her coffee. "Are you OK?" he asks and reaches out to place his hand on her arm.

"You heard me in the shower?" she sputters after a moment.

"Yeah," he replies, unclear why that would be her first concern at this moment.

"That is mortifying," she says, blushing. "I'm so sorry. I won't–"

"It's fine," he assures. "You were really good. I liked that song you were singing," he adds and then turns back to the stove.

"Thanks," he hears her say softly.

For the next week, Oliver knows that Felicity's stopped her habit by the fact that he wakes up well after she's left for work. He's just beginning to regret mentioning it at all when one morning, he hears her, softer than before but just as sweet. He smiles and then climbs out of bed to stand outside the door. He doesn't realize how long he's there until he hears the water shut off. He quickly returns to his room so she won't catch him standing there and stop singing again.

He takes to listening outside the door every morning, sitting outside and leaning against the door as he listens. He's always sure to return to his room when she gets out of the shower so she doesn't catch him–except one morning.

Oliver is suddenly woken as the door gives way beneath him and he nearly falls onto Felicity's feet.

"Oh!" she says, startled.

"Sorry," Oliver replies, picking himself up off the ground.

"Why were you sitting out here?" she asks, tugging her towel around her. "Is someone here?"

"Uh, no," he says and ducks his head in embarrassment before adding, "I was listening to you sing."

"Oh," she mutters, cheeks going red. "Do you usually do that?"

"Yeah," he admits because she usually knows when he's lying anyway. "I can't hear you from my room anymore. So I started coming out here."

"Why?"

"I like hearing you," he says with a shrug. She looks at him a moment and then smiles before she heads off to her room again. Oliver watches her go, kicking himself for falling asleep.

He goes to bed that night fully expecting never to hear her again. Which is why, the next morning, he's surprised when her singing wakes him up. It's louder, just like that first time and he smiles thinking she must be doing it on purpose. He shuts his eyes and listens until Felicity's voice lulls him back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys. This will be the final drabble in this collection. I will likely write more once season 3 starts and name the collection something really original like Drabblicity 2. I want to focus on a couple of multi-chapter stories I've wanted to write for awhile. So, one last time, please a review or two on the drabbles you've enjoyed. They are my life blood.


	43. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I lied. Have a drabble. This is inspired, somewhat, from a post by otpprompts on tumblr about a world where when one person is harmed, their soulmate is harmed in the same way. I didn't follow that quite exactly simply because of the logistics. See this more as being about the physical pain and the scars being shared if not the huge amount of blood loss. Because something about that set up seems to fit Olicity really well.

Oliver drops his hands from Felicity's sides and steps back.

"How..." he starts, struggling to continue. "How long have you known?" he finally says, barely able to speak above a whisper. She shifts nervously and wraps her arms around herself before answering.

"It didn't take long once I was part of the team, I'll tell you that," she replies, giving him a small smile. Oliver sits down heavily on the edge of her bed. He was planning to lay her down on it only moments ago, before she removed her shirt and he saw his own scars mirrored on her body. Before he knew they were soulmates.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" he mutters. She doesn't answer, instead stepping toward him. She tries to reach out and place her hand against his cheek, but he pulls away.

"Because I didn't want it to affect our work," she explains and gently grabs his face in both hands, so he has to look at her.

"Felicity, I'm so sorry," he starts, "I never would have kept—”

"Oliver, stop," she interrupts, voice firm but kind. "Don't you dare punish yourself. I kept this from you because I didn't want you to stop trying to save the city just to save me. What we do is important." She steps toward him and hitches up one leg and then the other to straddle his hips before she sits in his lap. "I can handle a few more scars if it means we keep helping people," she finishes.

Oliver sighs in disbelief and then wraps his arms around her, as if he can somehow protect her from what's already happened. He stares at her a few moments, thinking back on how careful she's always been to keep certain parts of her body covered and kicking himself for never realizing why. All those hot summer days she would insist on wearing one of many colorful cardigans regardless of how high the temperature climbed. All those times he would come back to the lair with an injury and mistook her pained expressions as pure empathy. He leans forward and presses his lips to the scar on her left shoulder, the one made by the gunshot that brought her fully into his life.

"I can't believe I never realized," he says, lips brushing against her skin.

"I got pretty good at hiding it after the first couple," Felicity says. She sighs and relaxes against him, tangling her fingers in his hair before she leans down to kiss his temple. His hands brush over the mottled burn mark on her lower back and she lets out a small, breathy laugh. "I was in the middle of a job interview when that one happened," she explains, "unsurprisingly, they didn't hire me."

Oliver laughs as he falls back onto the bed, pulling her down with him, but he's given pause by a sobering thought.

"You must have been in so much pain," he says, cringing both at his own memory of the scar and the thought of her hurting. She frowns and stares down into his eyes a moment before speaking.

"It used to scare me, how much you were getting hurt," she admits, her expression taking on that pained look he only really understands now. "But it got easier when I realized that you would survive everything that happened."

"What do you mean?" he asks, confused.

"You were my soulmate," she says simply. "I wouldn't be getting hurt too if you weren't meant to survive long enough for us to meet."

Oliver can't help but smile at that. Felicity, ever the optimist. He flips them over then and slowly undresses her, gently kissing her scars each time a new one is revealed. In the morning, when he wakes up beside her, he feels better about the marks on his body and desperately hopes never to add more.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Friendly Competition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043786) by [ijustliketowatch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijustliketowatch/pseuds/ijustliketowatch)




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